Harry Potter and the Death of the Old Rule
by destinyseeker777
Summary: This story sets right after the end of Harry's seventh year at Hogwarts. A final battle seems to have put an end to the conflict with Voldemort. But the future is uncertain, choices must be made, and they prove more difficult than expected... Harry's worl
1. The pain of moving on

HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author warning: for the first few chapters, there is two distinct time threads going on. One concerns Hermione, and the other Harry. There is a few switches between the two, so readers, be attentive! A clue: when Harry is present, it is the thread relating to him (I mention that because Hermione appears in Harry's thread). Good reading!

Chapter 1

The pain of moving on

"The month of August is really beautiful this year", Hermione muttered to herself as she looked out the window, trying desperately to contain her tears. Her heart was aching, and she was doing her best to control the slight trembling that had just a few moments ago taken hold of her. She had just been profoundly hurt, and didn't know why. As the plane gained in altitude, she could see the meadows and the hills in the distance, and was wondering why the path she was choosing should be so painful.

----------

It had been an excruciatingly difficult decision, one that had almost driven her insane for weeks. She had asked her parents, trusted teachers, and even Dumbledore, at first. She had then consulted some members of the Order, and nobody had helped. Everyone had been quite nice about it, but "It's your choice" was the common, recurring theme, and she had felt like everybody wanted to keep out of her business, and let her make this crucial decision on her own. Ron had avoided the subject altogether, and she had been hesitant to talk to him about it. Their relationship had gotten somewhat... complicated during their last two years at Hogwarts, mainly due to the fact that they had dated for most of the sixth year. They had more or less broken up during the following summer - but without actually doing it or talking about it. Their final year had been mostly occupied by preparing for final NEWT exams, and by the ongoing conflict between the Order and Voldemort that had finally climaxed into what the Prophecy had said: Harry, barely escaping with his life, had managed to vanquish Voldemort by breaking, after two days of sheer mental battle, the Cruciatus curse that his mortal enemy and two other Death Eaters had managed to inflict upon him. Hermione had been the first to get to Harry, left half naked, bloody, dazed and confused, and shaking violently with pain on the edge of the Forbidden forest. It had taken him a month to recover, and she could still see, at times, the throbbing pain that he still felt whenever he remembered the events. The healers of St-Mungo's had told him he would suffer the repercussions of this encounter for the rest of his life.

It was nevertheless Harry who had helped her decide. She had been at his side every day during his recovery, and during the third week of his stay at St-Mungo's Hospital - seeing he was feeling much better - she had decided to bring up her dilemma.

"Well, it looks like we're gonna have to choose between job offers soon."

Harry looked at her, bemused. "Do you mean you already have some?"

"Well yes!" she said enthusiastically. "Don't you?"

Harry sighed, and suddenly realized that his vision of what the future might hold was rather narrow. Ever since Lord Voldemort's return, he had been living one day at a time.

"I've been rather preoccupied with more urgent things", muttered Harry harshly. "Like fighting Lord Voldemort, for example."

"Of course, Harry, how insensitive of me," said Hermione mortified at the implication of what she had just said. A flush of pink slowly appeared on her cheeks.

Harry regretted his words right away. He didn't want to take away the sense of accomplishment she may have felt; yet, at the same time, looking for employment had not even crossed his mind during his last school year. He felt bad - the ongoing war of the last three years had also taken away some softness from him, and he had answered rather aggressively.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I didn't mean it like that", Harry said with a forced smile. He knew that behind the strong façade she put up most of the time, there was a soft, vulnerable side to Hermione - and he despised himself when that softer side was shaken because of something he said or did. "I mean, it's great that so many people would want to have you working for them, they will be in for a treat! Tell me what the offers are! "

"Well, it's not like there's a crowd lining up, but here's the deal", she said timidly. "The first offer is right here. Right here at Hogwarts, I mean. McGonagall is thinking of switching subject in a year or two - you now, she finally wants a new challenge after some forty years! She would take me on as an assistant-teacher for her Transfiguration class. When she switches, I would become the new Transfiguration teacher."

"Wow!! That's great." Harry imagined himself in a class taught by Hermione, and smirked. He then frowned, like he usually did when he was thinking hard about something.

"What's the matter? Spill it, I know you too well, what's wrong?" Hermione said, apprehensive about what he was about to say, yet at the same time was hoping for an insight that would help her with her gut-wrenching decision.

"Nothing, really. Teaching would kind of be THE logical route for you, wouldn't it? But don't you feel like seeing the world, instead of staying here? That's what I would do myself. I've loved my stay at Hogwarts, don't get me wrong, but I long for something else now. Besides, our seven years here have not been what you could call - uneventful - and I think you'd miss the adventure."

"Well, there's the other job offer. Remember Viktor Krum?"

"Of course, dear ol' Vik! Still after you, is he?" Harry said with a malicious grin, knowing this was bound to set her off.

"Get off it", Hermione answered irritably, "I have enough of Ron to make snide comments whenever he hears the name. He could never -" Hermione suddenly caught herself, as if she hadn't wanted to start that sentence. Harry noticed the sudden shift, but continued looking at her as she seemed to be trying to get back to what she had been saying. He was definitely curious about what had happened between Ron and Hermione, but didn't want to pry.

Hermione continued. "Well, after he graduated from Durmstrang, he started his own broom company, and made a fortune overnight. He called me last week to offer me a research position in his company, something to do with the charms needed to make his particular make of broom more aerodynamic."

Harry laughed, with a hint of glee in his eyes. "It may be useful to remember that you're not the best flyer, Hermione!"

"Well, they have people to test the brooms, if I cannot manage it myself, you know."

Harry suddenly paused, and seemed to realize something. "What if Viktor's interest is more than professional? Didn't he almost have you kidnapped, that summer after our sixth year? You're my friend, Hermione, and I wouldn't let him do that again."

Hermione rolled her eyes, and sighed heavily, discouraged at the question that obviously had been asked many times before. "We sorted that out already! It was a misunderstanding on you and Ron's part, and I didn't feel like giving details at the time. Ron was obviously jealous, and you were too protective". Hermione seemed suddenly perplexed by her own comment about Harry.

Harry's mood suddenly dropped, a burst of anxiety finding its way to the pit of his stomach. "So Romania and Viktor's charms are pulling on you, are they?" He started trembling. Somehow, the thought of Hermione working for Krum in far away Romania was grabbing at something inside.

"I haven't decided anything yet, I'm so unsure." Having noticed Harry's tremors, even though he was trying to hide them, she continued. "I probably should go, you seem tired. You've been through a lot, and here I am burdening you with my stupid choice. I'll see you."

She got up to go, and kissed him on the cheek, as she often did. Harry took this opportunity to whisper in her ear: "Nothing about you is stupid, Hermione. You'll make the right decision."

As she left, he caught himself watching her. As moralizing and self-righteous as she could be sometimes, there was a sweet side to her, especially visible in the way she cared for her friends - more to the point, in the way she worried about him. He would miss her a lot, if she decided to leave.

----------

_Harry was running, trying to get free from the maze. Right, then straight, then left. He kept hitting the same dead end, and yet, the piercing screams were getting louder and louder. He then heard it: "NOOOOO, PLEASE ! DON'T, NOOOO. HARRY, HELP – aargh!!" The shriek was suddenly interrupted by a loud thump, too much like the sound of a huge potato sack dropped from one's shoulders directly to the ground. Still running, Harry managed at last to reach the center of the maze, where the cup stood and the screams had been coming from. Too late - Krum was already there, standing over a limp body, a green halo still glittering at the end of his wand. From where he stood, paralyzed, Harry could only see the tangled mass of bushy hair on the ground underneath Krum's muscular frame, and through the curly and bloody strands, the terrified, empty look of those bright brown eyes that had seemed to be looking for him instants before... Instantly, he was sure that ice was now running through is veins, and that his whole body had been cast into a paralyzing coffin of cold, freezing stone.   
_   
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" Harry screamed as he jumped up from his hospital bed, covered in sweat, shivering uncontrollably and panting as if he had just ran the 100 meter dash. Slowly, reality crept back in. It had just been a dream, a ghastly, horrible nightmare. The same one - it was the third night in a row. He didn't think it a coincidence that the day of his last conversation with Hermione had been followed by the first night where she had started "dying" in his sleep.

It was still dark, but the moonlight coming in from the skylight cast dancing shadows all over the walls. The clock on the side of his bed said 3:45 am. Harry wiped the sweat on his forehead with his forearm, wincing as he went over his scar. It was constantly painful, since his last battle with Voldemort. He was learning to live with the constant, dull and throbbing ache, and trying to function normally.

As Harry caught his breath and reflected upon his dream, he remembered it wasn't the first time that his obsessive fear of Hermione's passing had found a voice in his dreams. Remembering, he traced back the first of these occasional, yet vivid nightmares to the summer following their fifth year - year of the High Inquisitor - during which he had faced great dangers and lived intense emotions with Hermione at his side. During a brief moment in battle, he had really thought her to be dead. He remembered the ripping of his heart at the thought, for that instant in time, that he had lost his best friend forever.

Their relationship had changed, after that fifth year. Though it had seemed deeper because of what they had shared facing Voldemort, they had somewhat been estranged by circumstances, and by her and Ron's personal choices. During the following summer, Dumbledore had strongly insisted that he come to live at Twelve Grimmaud Place with other members of the Order, despite the painful memory of Sirius - and the Dursleys, of course, had been happy to give their blessing. When he had arrived, the first thing he had stumbled upon was Hermione and Ron holding hands, and announcing very awkwardly that they were, well, dating.

The sight had not been shocking to Harry. After all, he had noticed the tensions between Ron and Hermione. They were always bickering and fighting, but yet showed jealousy at each other's involvements with other people.

The relationship, however, had dramatically altered the dynamics of their friendship, and he had felt more or less isolated during the whole school year. That year of solitude had been illuminating in one aspect, though. For the first time, he had realized that his friendship with Ron was very different from his friendship with Hermione. It seemed that with Ron, it could only go skin deep. Sure, they were buddies, partners in crime, they shared a lot together, but it seemed to stop there. Hermione, on the other hand - and despite her tendency to be moralizing and judgemental - knew his thoughts, his worries, his hurts even, often before he could even verbalize them himself. He had always thought it came from the fact that she was a girl, and had generally brushed it aside, but now that he had been away from her most of the time, he noticed he missed her presence. He missed her.

_Somehow, she is always the first face I see when I wake up from a life and death situation_, Harry thought to himself. He had been trying to avoid thinking about this for the last three weeks, but memories of his last brush with death sent a shiver down his spine. Leaning back and staring at the moon, he recalled the incidents.

Voldemort and his Death eaters were surrounding the grounds of Hogwarts. There was no escaping this time, and the final conflict was unavoidable. They were all stuck inside the castle, ready to fight to their death, when Harry had an idea: if he could just run to the Forbidden Forest, and manage to rally Aragog, the giant spider, and his children, he could perhaps create a diversion; meanwhile members of the Order and students could switch from a defensive position to an offensive thrust for the final attack. Harry thought that if they could force the Death eaters into one area somewhere around the castle, they could then concentrate all their power and give a decisive blow to Voldemort's army. Ron and Hermione were strongly against the idea, since it would mean that Harry would have to be an open target from the moment he'd pass the castle door to get outside. Harry was a step ahead. Before his friends could say anything, he ran to the Gryffindor tower and grabbed his Firebolt. He opened the window, and jumped out as Ron was stepping into their dormitory, screaming, "Don't do it Harry, you'll get killed!"

He got into a high speed dive, the warm summer wind rushing his face, and immediately headed towards Hagrid's cabin, in the back of which he planned to enter the Forest. This was exactly the kind of blunder Voldemort had been waiting for. He knew Harry was keen to rash, impulsive and falsely "heroic" moves, and surrounding the castle had been a strategic step into forcing Harry in a position where he would sooner or later make a mistake.

"I'm almost there," he thought, "C'mon, just a bit faster," he said to himself as a leaned forward on his broom as much as he could.

And then the booming voice came, echoing in the distance. "CRUCIO!" A blinding flash of reddish light appeared out of nowhere on his left side, and he was instantly overtaken by unfathomable pain, as if thousands of white hot knives had just been simultaneously plunged into his flesh. He fell from his broom, which had been shooting at high speed about ten feet high above the ground. Harry landed hard on the grassy meadow just before the entrance to the Forest, writhing with pain, as two other voices resonated in the distance, almost in unison. "Crucio!" Harry had now the distinct impression of being milled between two enormous boulders of uneven, jagged-edged rock, and that he was being skinned alive in the process.

Harry decided he wouldn't go without a fight. If his number was up, he would die as a warrior, just as Sirius had done. But his body had already begun to shut down, his brain unable to process the intensity of the pain that was upon him. Blinded, he could no longer see where he was - but just as if time had suspended its course, his thoughts slowly came into a strange focus, and images from his life started appearing in his mind, as if he were watching a movie : he saw his parents, loving and smiling, then Hagrid, bringing him the letter of admittance to Hogwarts; soon he was on the Hogwarts Express, and witnessed the scene of his first meeting with Ron, followed by the unusual encounter with a high-nosed, snobby and condescending girl that was looking for Neville Longbottom's toad. Somehow, his thoughts locked on that face. It was changing though. Slowly, the large teeth were being replaced by a more proportioned, more natural, and less pronounced overbite. The mass of bushy hair was slowly evolving into a more groomed, wavy, stylish head of hair. The plump, round face narrowed and cheekbones, ever glowing with a subtle tint of pink, appeared. The eyes, however, remained the same. Big, bright brown eyes, that you could get lost into, that could either show you unconditional love and unrestrained approval - or utter disdain. He had focused on the eyes, and forgetting everything else, he had just thought to himself, "NO! I will look into these eyes again."

The pain suddenly lifted somewhat. "I can fight this", he thought to himself, and concentrating with all his might on the eyes, he fought back. Not aware of time, Harry forced himself to think, "No, I will not be defeated." And after two days of this intense battle of the mind, there was an apocalyptic explosion of white light.

Everything after that was somewhat of a foggy sequence of memories. He remembered seeing Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix, hovering over him. The Cruciatus curse had been broken, and he had slowly had regained his sight. He still couldn't move, though: every physical part of his body had been severely put to the test, and he had soon started convulsing. The last thing he had seen, before waking up in the hospital, were - again - those brown eyes. They had been filled with tears, and they had seemed to speak to him. "Harry, Harry, oh my God Harry, you can't be gone. I can't lose you, I - I love you." Everything had gone black after that, and he had woken up a week later in the hospital.

That face, those eyes, Harry knew it now, were Hermione's. She had saved him, in a way. But had she really said that, or had he imagined it?

Harry had mused the words in the days that had followed, and had concluded they hadn't been real. He remembered few details of his battle with Voldemort, and memories came back in little pieces.

The clock showed 4h00 am when Harry looked at it again.

"Once again, one of the few persons that really gets me is leaving me." Harry said out loud, and suddenly he felt more depressed than he had ever felt. It seemed people kept exiting his life, that loved ones' departures were the lyrics of the anthem of Harry Potter's existence - his parents had left him, and just recently Sirius. Hagrid had been forced to go into hiding in the last few months, and now... Hermione would probably be leaving him too.

Harry buried his face in his pillow, trying to go back to sleep. After an hour or so, he fell asleep, his face wet from the tears he could no longer hold back.


	2. Undisclosed secrets

HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author warning: still two distinct time threads going on. Bear with me, there will converge at some point! Remember: Hermione appears in Harry's time sequence!

Chapter 2   
Undisclosed secrets

From the cloudless view she had from the airplane window, Hermione had been able to watch the sun set over the Swiss Alps. It was completely dark in the aircraft now, and she was grateful that she could easily conceal herself from the few passengers in the row across.

Her tears had turned to sobs, and she was trying very hard not to make a spectacle of herself. "Why did he say these things?" she wondered. "They're not true! Doesn't he know it was always for him, for Ron, never for me? How could he be so mean?"

She still could see the anger in Harry's eyes as she had left the airport terminal to catch her plane. She didn't understand: after all, she had made her final decision following their talk at the hospital. It seemed to her that Harry would have had no problem with her leaving "to see the world", as he had put it. Granted, they had issues to resolve in their relationship, especially considering their last meeting and what had happened after. But nothing had prepared her for this, or given her any subtle hint that something might have been so wrong.

But obviously, something had been. The biting words still echoed in her head.

"You're so selfish! From the first day that Ron and I met you, I knew you considered yourself above us, and I see now that you've come full circle! You're leaving without a care in the world for your friends. Well! Have a nice life, Hermione."

----------

Harry woke up the next day feeling exhausted. He was going to turn eighteen in a week, but he felt older - much older, in fact - and his body seemed tired beyond any ability to rejuvenate itself. For the first time since the beginning of his hospital recovery, he was letting himself be overwhelmed by the whirlwind of emotions he had forcibly and willingly put aside during his last year at Hogwarts. The truth was he had no energy left to contain them, and like a twig floating desperately on a rushing river, he was being overtaken - and perhaps even in danger of drowning under the intensity and force of his repressed feelings.

Thinking out loud, Harry attempted to sort his emotions. "Let's see, Sirius died at the end of our fifth year, then my friends left me alone for most of my sixth year for the sake of "romance" - the year, incidentally, when I had to come to terms with Sirius's death and was forced to kill in battle for the first time; and this year, well, again I nearly died in battle, Hagrid disappeared into hiding and is nowhere to be found, and now Hermione is leaving." Harry felt a surge of rage mixed with despair mounting within him, and yet crying was all he felt able to do.

Harry closed his eyes and whispered, to himself and to the walls, "What a mess you are, Potter."

His brooding was interrupted by Ron's entrance.

"Good morning, mate!" Ron had arrived for his usual morning chat, and seemed in a cheery mood today.

"Hi Ron", whispered Harry. The dark circles under his eyes did nothing to conceal that he had not slept much the night before.

"Man, you look absolutely terrible. What are they doing to you, aren't you supposed to get better ?" Ron's face showed concern. "Are you getting better?"

"Yeah, I am, it's just. I haven't been sleeping well this week. Nightmares, you know?" Harry didn't really expect Ron to probe further, but to Harry's surprise, he did.

"Even with Vol-Vol-Voldemort gone, you still have them?" Ron had never been comfortable with saying the name, even now that this dark chapter of their lives was finally over.

Harry hesitated before answering. Doing so involved talking about a sensitive subject for Ron: Hermione. All three of them were still undoubtedly "best" friends, but there was a new form of 'political correctness' in the way Ron and Hermione interacted these days, and Harry didn't know just how far he could push the subject.

"Oh, the hell with it", Harry answered, tired of lying, weary of wasting energy on sparing other people's feelings. "The dream was not about Voldemort, Ron." Harry held his breath for a moment, then took the plunge. "It was about Hermione, mate."

"Hermione. Oh, right. Okay." Ron's jaw muscles started twitching nervously, and for a moment he repeatedly combed his hair back with his hand. He opened his mouth to continue, but oddly, nothing seemed to come out.

"It's not what you think, Ron", Harry interrupted urgently as Ron's face seemed to be positively loosing all hint of color. He was no longer combing his hair back, but rather tugging at it quite vigorously. "I dreamed she was killed; and by Viktor Krum, of all people. Can you imagine that? It was horrible, actually! ."

The only reaction on Ron's part was a faint "I see," his face becoming more and more aghast. Harry seized the opportunity, and said with a hushed voice, "How are you two doing, by the way? The last two years have been somewhat of a blur, and we never talked about you and her"

Eyebrows raised, Ron looked at Harry, sighed heavily, and slumped his shoulders. Harry could read remorse and confusion on his face, but at the same time he appeared relieved to finally have a chance to talk about it.

"Well, you know we dated during our sixth year. It started about a week before you arrived at number twelve, Grimmauld Place, two summers ago. Hermione had come a few days early, and she told me she needed to talk to me. She took me upstairs to Buckbeak's room, and told me she liked me - just like that, out of the blue. Before I could say anything more, she kissed me. It felt nice, my heart started beating fast, and I kissed her back. After a while, I said to her, 'Does that mean we are - together?' She laughed, and her smile was so contagious that she didn't have to answer. That's when I noticed, I think for the second time since I had known her, just how pretty she really was. The day you arrived, though, she hurriedly told me that we had to keep it low profile, so that your feelings would not be hurt."

Harry wondered, "Why would my feelings have been hurt? I kinda had seen it coming."

"That's exactly what I told Hermione at that time!" Ron replied, surprised that he and Harry had been - at that time, anyway - on the same page. "But she kind of fumbled her words, and said something about you having just lost Sirius, feeling abandoned, etc., so I didn't go further. So in a nutshell, that's how we started 'dating'."

"Right", replied Harry, "I remember well enough! I got really close to Ginny, Luna and Neville that year."

The smile on Harry's face showed that he wasn't trying to make Ron feel bad. Nevertheless, Ron was well aware they he and Hermione had in fact left Harry to fend for himself that year. He felt somewhat guilty, but just like an infected, painful sore needing to be drained to heal, Ron needed to talk and would not stop - even if it meant making Harry feel uncomfortable.

He continued softly, "It was kind of weird, to say the truth. Sure, at the beginning it seemed to be 'romance', we held hands, we kissed. But then, we were just - Ron and Hermione, there was no sparks, no chemistry - we bickered and argued like we used to, she lectured me on my homework, I told her to get lost... Harry, I kid you not, at one point we were arguing, and I abruptly told her 'Oh stop it Ginny!' That's when I - in fact, we - realized we were only good friends trying to make it into something more."

"So you guys ended it or something?" Harry had been completely left out of the whole scenario, and now curiosity was getting the best of him.

"That's were it gets REALLY awkward, mate. Around May, we kind of both knew it was over. We had stopped meeting in private, we no longer exchanged 'love' notes, and generally tried to avoid one another. It wasn't difficult, since there was so much studying to be done for our final NEWT exams. Then, the year ended, we left for the summer holidays, and I suppose - still - it was the end of it. No owls, no visits, and then no mention of anything the next time we saw each other, when we met you at the Leaky Cauldron at the end of last summer."

"That's not right. Don't you think you two should talk it over, at least?" Harry suggested.

Ron pondered the idea for a moment. "Yeah, but I haven't had the heart to initiate that conversation, and neither has Hermione. We're in a stalemate position."

Harry smiled as he imagined Ron in front of a board of Wizard's chess - his favourite game - trying to figure out his next move in this crazy game of 'love'.

Suddenly, Ron looked at his watch. "Wow, I have to dash, mate, I've got to get ready for the tryouts!"

Harry already knew, from one of Ron's excited visit the week before, that he had been invited to the training camp of the Chutney's Cannons, his favourite professional Quidditch team.

"Go, then, and make us all proud!"

Ron left in a flash, leaving Harry to his reverie. He pondered why Hermione and Ron had not "worked out". Since their fourth year, when they had been unequivocally jealous of each other's date at the Yule ball, Harry had been convinced they had some kind of genuine love chemistry for each other.

"But then again, what do I know?" Harry admonished himself. "I had been so anxious to date Cho Chang, and when the chance came for that relationship to take off, everything went awry". Harry had more or less decided after Cho that dating would have to be put off. First of all, he just didn't share the whole excitement of his schoolmates about the whole process, and secondly, he had more pressing matters weighing down on him - self- preservation and fighting Voldemort being the topmost on the list.

"Perhaps", he thought, "that is also why Hermione did not connect well with Ron. She and I shared some pretty intense moments in battle - unfathomably more than Ron - and facing Voldemort does make everything else look so superficial."

His head was throbbing. He cautiously laid down to rest, nesting the back of his head comfortably on the palms of his outstretched hands.

He gazed at the ceiling. "Girls!", Harry mused out loud, lost in thoughts. "Maybe we scare them. In my case, it's not that difficult to do! It comes naturally! Hey, who wants a date with Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the one who killed Voldemort?" Lowering his voice, he continued, "Yeah, Harry Potter. The freak who lived."

"I know of one girl who doesn't think of you as a freak", a sweet girlish voice said, and Harry straightened up on his bed in a flash, recognizing at once the long flaming red hair floating around a malicious, conniving, freckled face.

"Er, hello Ginny. Ever heard of knocking?" Harry, for one rare moment in his life, blushed at the thought that Ginny might have heard him talk out loud.

"Well, the door was wide open, so I assumed I didn't need to", she said with a sly grin on her face. "I now see that you were having a pretty intense conversation with yourself!"

Harry attempted one of his most scary-looking face. "You must swear you'll never repeat anything you heard, or else..." He failed miserably, however, at containing a huge smile. He and Ginny had gotten closer in the last two years, since she had conveniently filled in for him as seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team when Umbridge had banned him from playing. They truly enjoyed each other's company. He felt safe with her, since she had assured him that her first year crush on Him was long gone by now.

Ginny replied with a well rehearsed, fake expression of terror on her colourful face. "Pleeeaaaase, I will not tell, please do not kill me!"

"Now. What was that piece about a rare 'someone' who doesn't think me a freak? Do tell!" Harry's curiosity had been aroused, but he was sceptical; in his mind, there existed no girl who wasn't - at least a little - scared or insecure of being left alone with him.

"Well. Hermione, of course."

Harry rolled his eyes and let out the breath he was holding in anticipation. He had been expecting someone - anyone - else, and now was rather frustrated. "Ginny! You're such a git! She doesn't count! She's my best friend, AND she's probably as much as a freak as I am!" Harry realized what he had just said, and continued immediately. "Well, in a good way, of course!"

But Ginny was no longer paying serious attention. She continued, "The reason I'm saying that, though, is that Hermione and I have talked a lot in the last two years, and I know things that most people don't. Why, for example, she could never get comfortable in her relationship with Ron."

She suddenly had Harry's full attention. He, himself, had wanted to know that since the previous year, but Hermione herself had never talked about it - and probably wouldn't. Furthermore, he had just heard a bit of Ron's version of things, and eager to know more, he decided hearing Hermione's version - distorted it may be because of Ginny's interpretation of it - might be enlightening.

"So why?"

"I've been asked never to tell you this, but my better judgement is prompting me to tell you now." Ginny winced as she said the words. "It was because of - you, Harry."

Harry raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "What exactly do you mean, because of me?"

Ginny kept silent for a moment, trying very hard to choose her next words very carefully. "Well, Hermione's heart is a deep and mysterious well; my assessment is that she's an intense, complex and somewhat insecure human being. Even with me, she never discloses most of her personal feelings. But from the conversations I've had with her, I've drawn some conclusions."

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his bed, sitting up to better look at Ginny while she was talking. He cared about Hermione, and agreed that she was sometimes hard to figure out. He also vividly remembered the time when Ron, during their first year, had made a snide comment that had made her break down in tears. He had seen, back then, that behind the façade, she was very sensitive.

"So, what did you conclude?"

"Before I tell you what I think, let me ask you a few questions. Who knows you more than anyone else, even Ron?"

"Hermione", Harry answered, "but only because she's seen me at my worst and my best!"

"Who - with the exception of yours truly - is not afraid to confront you, and tell you exactly what they think?"

Harry had to concede, again, "Hermione".

"Who, in our fifth year when you first thought you were 'possessed' by Voldemort, refused to accept your momentary self-pity 'episode', in your room at number twelve, Grimmauld Place?"

"Hermione", Harry murmured.

Ginny continued relentlessly. "On that one date in Hogsmeade with Cho Chang, what was the subject of your argument with her?"

Harry gasped. "The fact that I had to interrupt our date to go meet... Hermione!"

Ginny jumped to her next questions. "When Umbridge took over the school, who rallied people around you to form the DA? Who made sure your name was cleared by arranging the interview with The Quibbler?"

Harry was trying to put all the questions together. He had to agree with Ginny, once again, but insisted on another idea.

"It was Hermione, of course. But you know, she's my friend, we established that. These are things friends do for each other!"

"Maybe you should ask yourself if Ron ever did things like that for you... Okay, one last question. In our fifth year, who never left your side from the moment we started our DA meetings to the moment you fought the Death Eaters in the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry didn't know what to think. Of course, the answer was - once again - Hermione. However, what was he supposed to make out of what Ginny was getting at? Did Hermione have 'feelings' for him he had no idea about? The next thought scared him even more. Could HE have 'feelings' for Hermione? One question was now burning in his mind more than anything else.

"Ginny, you're confusing me. Hermione has never shown anything more than friendship towards me. What are you getting at?"

"Harry", she said softly, "from some of the things she told me, and the way I've seen her interact with you, I think - I think she's in love with you. And I think she has been for a very, very long time."

Harry was at a loss for words. He looked at Ginny in utter disbelief. All of the sudden, a deep surge of warmth came over him, from the pit of his stomach all the way to the roots of his messy hair. He suddenly had an overwhelming desire to see Hermione, to throw his arms around her and hold her real tight like he often did when they played around outside with Ron and the others. But this time, the motivation was different. Out of the blue, he then had a flash of teary brown eyes looking over his bruised body, saying "I can't lose you! I love you."

He composed himself, and snapped himself back to his senses. "Ginny, that can't be right; she's the one that helped me - even pushed me - to get a date with Cho, she NEVER said or did anything to even remotely suggest that she likes me. And when she has such an interest for someone, she goes after it: she did with Krum, and again with Ron."

"Harry," Ginny concluded as she got up to leave, "That's probably because - I'm not even sure she grasps the true nature of her feelings for you."

"Or, more likely, because I'm just a friend to her!" Harry concluded out loud.

Ginny left. Harry was left to entertain this new theory, but somehow it just didn't make sense. Hadn't Ron just told him that they had broken up because they felt more like brother and sister than boyfriend and girlfriend? Besides, hadn't Ginny said that it was her own conclusion?

Hermione was probably going to visit him today. He decided he would try to probe the issue then, but had not idea what to expect. He didn't even know what 'love' was, really. At the thought of seeing Hermione, however, Harry was again overtaken by a surge of warmth...

----------

"I'm going! I can't believe I'm doing it, but I'm going to Romania!"

As expected, later that afternoon, a flustered - yet beaming - Hermione came running frantically into Harry's room after having opened the door with a loud bang.

Harry woke up from his nap, wide-eyed and bewildered; his heart accelerated slightly at the sight of Hermione. He suddenly regretted having spoken too quickly about her going "away", to "see the world."

"Man, has anybody been raised to knock before they enter a room?"

"I'm sorry Harry, but the nurses always tell us to just walk in, so that's what we do. And besides, I'm so excited, I wanted you to be the first to know, I can hardly contain myself!"

Harry had rarely seen Hermione so enthused. "So Romania, uh? You're sure this is what you want?"

Hermione looked at him quizzically and answered, "Well, of course I want to go! It won't be easy being far away from friends and family, but you know, it's what life is all about, right?"

"Right," answered Harry, painfully remembering the pattern of his life. People leaving him.

"Look, I found this really great house - well, it's small, but it's just perfect for me - to rent, I've got a picture in -"

Harry interrupted her. He had longed to see her, and somehow he had to talk to her. Looking directly at her, trying to pierce her soul with the gaze of his intense, emerald green eyes, he went straight to the point.

"Hermione? I know this is completely off the subject, but I've been thinking a lot about this during my stay at the hospital. Why did you and Ron, er, broke up?"

Had she been a Quidditch player, Hermione's face would have given the impression she had just been winded by an unexpected bludger. Her cheeks instantly turned to a deep shade of purple, and she literally fell on the chair next to the bed, her hands on her mouth and her eyes looking down to avoid Harry's searching gaze. "Uh, it's hard to explain, I think. I'm still sorting out myself all the reasons. I'm not sure I'm even ready to talk about it, to tell you the truth," she said looking up at Harry. "Not with you, anyway." She defiantly held the intense interrogatory look coming from his eyes.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Harry spoke again. He continued softly, "Did I have anything to do with that? Was it because of me?"

Hermione gasped, and tears immediately filled her eyes. Evidently, he had struck a deep nerve, and she had not been expecting the question. "Harry, I - I can't talk about this, not now, not here. Not like this! You wouldn't understand!"

"Try me, Hermione. We're friends, aren't we?" Harry was suddenly more insistent, and he felt a wave of anger mounting within him. He wanted her to say something, anything, about her true feelings - whatever they were.

"I can't Harry, I really can't!" she said wiping her tears with the sleeve of her jacket.

"You mean you won't", Harry replied coldly. He was getting angrier, without knowing exactly why.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, Hermione fumbled with the papers she had been so anxious to show Harry, closed her bag, and stood up to leave. She almost sprinted to the door, and then, without thinking, spun around and blurted the answer Harry had been hoping for.

"If you must know, you're right, Harry Potter! It WAS because of you!" She slammed the door, and departed.

Harry was clueless. He realized his anger had something to do with the fact that she was planning to leave without letting him know anything about this. He started feeling that her going to Romania was just an excuse to escape something - something that involved him, and that she wasn't willing to discuss.

-----

"Boy, it feels good to be home again!" Harry was radiant as he crossed the threshold of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, having been released from the hospital at last - after four long weeks. He was greeted by Dobby, his devoted house-elf.

"Good morning, Harry Potter, Sir! Dobby has prepared breakfast, and it will be served soon. Dobby invites Master Harry to sit down at the kitchen table."

Harry had really missed being home. Number twelve, Grimmauld Place, was now legally his. Unbeknownst to Harry then, Sirius had redrafted his Testament upon rejoining the Order of the Phoenix. The revised will stated that Harry was to inherit everything he possessed. Little did Sirius know that his last will and testament would - sadly - have to be carried out just a few months later. To Harry, it meant that he was now financially free and owned a valuable piece of real estate. On top of the small fortune he had officially received from his parents on his eleventh birthday, he had now been bestowed with the entirety of the Black estate, and that meant — well, that he was ridiculously wealthy. With school now over, he would soon need to consider many options in regards to his affairs and, even though it seemed uncertain, his future.

"Not today, though." Something weighed on his mind as he began to eat the delicious breakfast prepared by Dobby.

He had not spoken to Hermione since the day before, and Ginny had come to him that very night - his last evening at the hospital - in a state of panic.

"Harry, what did you tell her?" Ginny had asked.

"Well, to summarize, I asked her if I was the reason for her break-up with Ron," Harry had answered truthfully. "As soon as I asked, she had a meltdown of tears - I seem to cause that a lot - and she almost ran out, but not before blurting that I was right."

Ginny looked at Harry, worried. "I was right, she REALLY didn't expect THAT question. One thing for sure, I just saw her, and she worries me. I've rarely seen her so - broken, for lack of a better word."

Harry had immediately gotten up and started to dress. "I'll go see her, it's my fault, I'll go and straighten this out!"

"No!" Ginny had shrieked, panic-stricken. "She may not want to talk to you, and that will only make things worse. Send her a note, and wait for tomorrow, let her sleep on it."

Harry was nearly finished his breakfast. He couldn't wait any longer. He got up and went upstairs to a room he was now calling his "study": he had decorated the breathtaking mahogany bookshelves that adorned all but one wall of the large room on the last floor of the mansion with all his books from Hogwarts, and many others he had collected from various areas of the house. In the middle of the room, facing the door, was a beautiful, skilfully crafted mahogany work table, on which he usually left papers and other important things he needed to attend to. He sat down on the high-backed, old and comfortable dragon leather chair, took out a roll of parchment and his favourite quill - the gold- trimmed one Hermione had given him as a gift for his seventeenth birthday - and started to write.

_Dear Hermione, _

I'm writing you because I'm afraid of what may happen if I go to you in person - which was, in fact, my first intention. By sending you this note, I can tell you what I want to say clearly, and avoid the risk of our emotions getting in the way.

I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you, or put you in a difficult situation. It's just - I've been trying to find out what happened between you and Ron, it's a year of both your lives I'm missing, and I just wanted to know a few details. I thought I had a general picture after talking to Ron, and that hearing your version would more or less fill in the blanks.

But your reaction has completely thrown me in the dark. Why would I be the reason of your break-up? I've had to live with the fact that I often put you and Ron in danger just because you two are "the friends of Harry Potter", and that's okay. But now, I must bear the burden of being the cause of your unhappiness, as well? I don't feel it's fair, but I don't think I'm getting the full picture either.

Hermione, know that I love you, and that I care deeply for you. I would die before I would let anything happen to you. I can't bear seeing you hurt.

Talk to me, please.

Harry

Harry let out a deep breath. He read the note a second and third time, making sure it couldn't be misinterpreted in any way. He called Hedwig, who seemed to be napping on the top of her cage in the corner of the study. With one flap of her large wings, she crossed the room and landed on Harry's shoulder. She let out a small hoot, and nibbled Harry's ear affectionately.

"Take this to Hermione, please. Make sure you stay with her for a while, I think she needs comforting." Harry knew the white owl had a soothing effect on people, and particularly on Hermione. He gently stroke the bird's feathers, and then let her go.

Hedwig took flight gracefully, slowly rising towards the corner of the huge skylight in the middle of the study's high ceiling, that was left open for that very purpose. Harry looked at her go, and hoped that he had done the right thing this time.


	3. New Perils in the Shadows

HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author note: thank you for all the reviews, and for those who have read chapter 1 and 2 already and were waiting (anxiously I hope) for this one, I suggest a quick second read of chapter 1-2. I made one minor change to clarify the sequence of events, and have put warnings at the beginning to clarify the time threads. For all other readers, welcome to the story!

Chapter 3

New perils in the shadows

The small enclosure was dark, humid, and saturated with the acrid odours typical of old underground tunnels. One could detect the blended aromas of rat and other animal droppings, the acrid smells of a wide range of fluids leaking down from the city above, the fetid smell of sitting water, as well as the putrid stench of decomposing flesh — all this stewing in the hot and damp stillness of an enclosed space that was never refreshed with outside air. In the distance, deep rumblings from the underground trains of London could be heard, mixed with deafening screeches of steel wheels against the tracks and switches, that echoed from every corners of this complex maze of tunnels.

In the corner of the faintly lit room — it had once served as a rest lounge for train conductors, to allow them to sleep and change between shifts — was a shabby bed, on which a form resembling a human body was laid. Another man, wearing a large cloak with a large hood, was calmly tending to the maimed individual, from which a faint moan seemed to be coming.

They both had seemingly been through a difficult ordeal: their cloaks were torn in many places, and dried blood could be seen on the thin lips of the man still standing. There seemed to be little hope for the individual on the bed: he was rasping, trying to catch his breath, and when he turned his body in a supreme effort, the light caught a face that confirmed that death was already starting to settle itself on the ragged body: ashen and white, it was also obscured by contusions due to the lack of oxygenation, and ruptured blood vessels were showing around the eyes and lips.

"Master, please, you shouldn't strain yourself that way, you are very weak", said the man with the hood, as he put a damp cloth on his accomplice's forehead. There was now a hint of worry in his voice.

"There is no time", whispered the dying form... "Come here, close to me, before it is too late!"

The tall man kneeled beside the bed, and moved closer in an attempt to hear his master better. He lowered his hood, and his pale, blond hair — somewhat filthy with sweat, dried blood and mud — shined under the flickering light of the candle slowly burning on a pile of old bricks in the corner of the room.

"Faithful Lucius", murmured the man laying down on the bed, "Potter has grown strong indeed in the last few years... I thought I had conquered death, but — "

The murmur suddenly became a menacing hissing sound. "I was wrong! I grossly underestimated his powers, and now I will pay the price for my foolishness!"

"MASTER! Do not speak in such a way; you shall live on forever, to uphold all that is pure, all that is beautiful, and all that is unadulterated in the Magical World. I will do anything to help you achieve that purpose, we must further everything we stand for!"

The eyes of the dying wizard — nothing more than ophidian slits, really — were closing and opening with increasing difficulty. "It is true, Lucius, that I will live on. However, I have been mortally wounded. Potter's strength... I should have known from the start to kill the source of it. That's what must be done to defeat him. It is now too late for me, but there is still hope."

Lucius Malfoy's face became solemn and grave, and if showing emotions had been forthcoming to Malfoy, perhaps one could have detected a hint of sadness. But he was in no case one to give in to girlish tears.

"Master", he continued with a rigid face, talking between gritted teeth, "tell me what must be done, and your death will be avenged."

The shadow of a wizard that was left of Lord Voldemort lifted himself up in a supreme effort; he managed to sit up on his death bed.

With a rasping, gurgling voice, Voldemort spat, "Lucius, I have chosen you to be my heir... In the last two years, I have shown you much of what I have mastered in the realm of Dark Magic. You are ready. However, there is two things that you must do before you can take over."

"But Master, I am unworthy of your greatness", Malfoy replied with obvious false humility. His eyes were shining with triumph, and if he could have screamed with glee he would have done it. He contained himself, however.

"Malfoy", blurted Voldemort, "there is no time for nice form and such stupidities. We both know that's what you have wanted all these years. Power — the kind only I possessed. Be glad: your time has come at last!"

Malfoy smirked, and said. "Master, I will ensure that your name will continue to live on, and that a new generation of wizards everywhere will be even more terrified to speak it —"

Urgency appeared on Voldemort's dying face. "There is very little time, Malfoy, let's get to it! First, you need to know how to get rid of Potter for good. When you leave here, you will go straight to my secret hiding place, in the dark forests of Serbia. There is a book there —"

Voldemort had to pause, to catch his breath and try to muster enough energy to finish what he had started to do.

His voice was barely a whisper now. "In this book, in which you'll find the explanation of the one thing that Dark Wizards of all times have feared beyond anything else — it is called 'The Old Rule', and it is the reason why Potter has survived our attempts to kill him. Find it, and you'll discover the key to destroying Potter, and avenging my name."

Malfoy was now grinning with evil satisfaction. "At last! There will be NOTHING to stand in the way of my — er, your greatness, Master! Pure-blood wizards will rule once more!"

Unexpectedly, Voldemort's body did a sudden jerk, and he grabbed his chest in a last gesture of survival. Seconds later, a trickle of dark, almost black blood started oozing from both corners of his mouth and his nostrils, slowly making its way down his chin. Wincing from the pain of death about to take him away, he continued, in a barely audible whisper.

"One last thing... I — I must perform one final, ultimate curse. It will be on myself, but you — you must put your hand on my body, and look — aaargh!" His face twisted into a pitiful expression of sheer torture, as he fought to keep death at bay. "You — you — you must look at me straight in the eyes. Your — your eyes, Malfoy, must NEVER loose contact with mine — or it will all have been in vain."

Malfoy nodded, and slowly put an unsteady hand on Voldemort's shoulder. He looked into the yellowish, serpentine eyes, and blurted firmly, "I am ready, Master."

Voldemort took out his wand with difficulty, and prepared — almost with relief — to utter his final words. "Malfoy, this curse will end my life — and transfer all my powers, all my knowledge, all my memories, to you... You — you will become the most powerful and feared wizard in the world..."

Malfoy stiffened, filled with anticipation, excitement, and terror — all at the same time. Without blinking, he continued staring into the eyes of the dying man.

Voldemort then pointed his wand towards his own heart, and with everything he had left, he pronounced the curse: "Avada Kedavra — Heritamenta!!"

The room literally exploded into a blinding flash of green light. Malfoy gripped the shoulder of his master and was suddenly overtaken by a flood of images and memories — he heard for a moment the screams of every victim of Voldemort, relived their terror and, with disgust, felt their desperation and last pleading for the sparing of their pathetic lives. The sheer power of the experience would have been enough to kill any ordinary wizard, but after two years of intense training in the Dark Arts, Lucius Malfoy was no longer "ordinary". The light then switched to a mixture of gold and red and Malfoy was levitated from the ground into midair. Images from Voldemort's life started appearing all around, and Malfoy saw Tom Riddle during his years at Hogwarts, he saw Harry's parents dying, he relived the painful road to restoration, and scenes of every confrontation with Harry Potter. Hundreds of images were now appearing and disappearing, images from Voldemort's life that were now being integrated into Malfoy's own memories... Suddenly, he heard a deep, powerful and cavernous voice speaking to him: "LORD VOLDEMORT IS NO MORE. HE HAS PASSED INTO THE REALM OF THE DEAD. BUT HE LIVES ON, THROUGH THE POWER OF THE HERITAGE CURSE. YOU, MALFOY, SHALL NOW BE KNOWN AS... LORD MALDEMORT!!"

A sardonic, devilish laugh suddenly resonated, and it seemed to echo endlessly throughout the tunnels of London's underground...

As instantly as it had started, the curse came to an end, and the room went dark once more; slowly, Malfoy descended to the ground. He felt more powerful than he could have ever imagined. The sensation was elating, and yet frightening at the same time: he was all Malfoy, but all Voldemort — it was like he had lived both lives, the two fused together. His eyes, no longer pale blue, were now of a shiny yellow. Pure evil was now palpable around him. Unable to contain himself, he started laughing, with an evil, hysterical laugh that would have made anyone shiver with terror.

"Potter! HARRY POTTER! You have stomped me for the last time! I will find you, and kill you, once and for all! And it will be a slow, painful death, I promise that!"

Malfoy-Maldemort picked up Voldemort's wand, lifted his hood over his head, and left the room. Only one thing remained on the bed in the corner — the only proof of Lord Voldemort's very existence: an old torn cloak, soiled with mud and blood. One minimal trace, the only testimony left to the fact that a baby had been born, a baby boy who had lived when all others had perished... The boy named Harry had grown-up, and at the tender age of seventeen, despite all odds, had managed to finally put an end to Voldemort's days.

Of Harry Potter, a wise old wandmaker had once said, so long ago it seemed, that the world should "expect great things" from him, hence setting a standard by which Harry — almost instinctively — would live. Harry had no idea, still, of the greatness of his accomplishments to date.

And even less of the path that laid ahead on his way to even more greatness.

--------------------

"Draco! Come here at once, son! We have work to do." The booming voice resonated throughout the mostly deserted castle.

With a start, Draco Malfoy abandoned his new broom, that he had just a few days ago convinced his father of purchasing, to promptly go meet him in the mansion's hallway downstairs. Lucius Malfoy was not someone to be disobeyed, particularly now. Draco wasn't sure exactly what was happening, but his dad had not been the same for about a week. He spoke harshly, he looked angry most of the time, and his air of superiority had given way to a downright evil — almost murderous — demeanour, and Draco was positively terrified of him, even if it pained him to admit it.

At seventeen, Draco had become one fine specimen of the wizarding kind. Well above six feet tall, he carried himself with the distinction and the poise of a self-assured young man. He was very athletic, and he couldn't help being noticed when he walked in a room. His muscular frame, his blond hair and narrow, pointed face was rarely ignored by his surrounding — particularly, of course, by young women. His presence was commanding, and he had inherited his father's ability to look down on people he believed to be of lowly origins. He had unfortunately become nastier with words than during his school days, when Harry and his friends had been his favourite targets. He knew better now — he was scared of Harry Potter, and knew that Harry could pin him to the ground with one wave of his wand, and even take his life — if that had been the character of Harry Potter. Fortunately for him, it wasn't. He nevertheless detested Harry, for a multitude of reasons. First and foremost, Harry was a celebrity when they had both entered Hogwarts, and for seven years he had constantly stopped Malfoy from being the sole center of attention, more or less relegating him to the shadows. Secondly, Harry's dealing with Voldemort had exposed Draco's father, and even though he was in Slytherin, being the son of an active Death Eater had its disadvantages in school. And finally, he just couldn't stand that Harry seemed to have everything handed to him on a silver platter. That is why they had become, over the years, enemies — and now, more than ever, mortal enemies.

"DRACO!!" Lucius' voice boomed for the second time.

"Here I am, father", Draco answered, panting after his race down the stairs.

"Prepare a travelling bag, we are going on a trip. And we might be a while, so I suggest that you bring you might need for at least a month. And Draco?" Maldemort's face was now showing signs of impatience.

"Yes, father?" Draco replied, unsure of what his father had in mind.

"No questions, please! You'll know everything you need to know in due time. I'll wait for you outside. Hurry, we must set off before nightfall." Maldemort spun around, and showed himself to the door...

--------------------

The mountains of Serbia were unwelcoming, to say the least. Jagged rocks, tangled surface roots that made walking and climbing treacherous, steep inclines, and tall, thick trees that were so close together that daylight never completely made it to the forest floor. The foggy, rainy weather also took its toll: the forest was always damp, freezing cold, and dark — pitch dark, even when the sun was at its peak. Trekking the mountains of Serbia was no walk in the park, and many had gone in never to be seen again. Countless legends and stories had been told and retold about the area, which was riddled with tales of mythical proportions: vampires from Transylvania finding refuge in the mountains centuries ago, tales of werewolves, giants, trolls, and other magical creatures escaping or making their home within the confines of the forest, to name a few. The popular folklore surrounding the mountains gave them an aura of doom and foreboding to anyone who entertained any thought of venturing within its limits. The truth was to be found somewhere in the midst of all the folk tales and legends. The fact was the forest was so dense and inhospitable that it had become, over the centuries, the ideal hiding place for all those who sought to disappear from sight and civilization for a time (or forever), for a variety of reasons — generally not commendable motives. Criminals, outlaws, escaped convicts, magical creatures and other marginalized individuals or groups had often found relative security in the mountainous forests of the Balkans, and most of the stories told about them had some elements of truth at least.

Voldemort himself had found the woods of Serbia to be the ideal place to establish his hidden headquarter; after a journey of many weeks, Lucius Malfoy — Lord Maldemort — and his son Draco had reached, without serious injury, a cave located near the very heart of the forest, hidden from view by a thick cluster of fir trees. Behind the trees was an entrance, the size of a man hole, where the select wizards who even knew of the hideout's existence had to perform a tricky spell in order to be able to get through. Lucius Malfoy had been Voldemort's right hand for the last two years, and only he, Voldemort himself and two other Death Eaters knew the spell.

"Wow", said Draco, looking at the austere looking room after passing through the entrance. "This is no ordinary cave, father... Where are we, exactly?"

They had stepped into a circular space about forty feet in diameter, and about fifteen feet high at its highest point; it looked like an austere yet somewhat distinguished study, not entirely dissimilar to the Slytherin common room at Hogwarts: half the walls of the cave, which would normally have shown bare granite, were covered with dark green tapestries intricately embroidered with silver designs of snake-like creatures, that hung from the point where the walls started caving in towards the center all the way to the cave floor; the other half of the walls seemed to be hidden behind tall bookshelves, but a closer look revealed that the shelves were carved directly within the black granite. They were filled beyond capacity with books of all sizes, parchments, scrolls and all sorts of study materials; the attentive eye could easily pinpoint their one common denominator — they were all, without exception, about the Dark Arts. Their was little light in the cave except for a huge stone chandelier hanging from the ceiling and some candles near a sitting area on the right side of the entrance, made up of a few rigid wooden chairs surrounding two large black granite tables, destined for visitors who wished to sit down and read — or research. Further towards the far end of the cave there was another granite table, behind which a dark dragon leather chair rested — Voldemort's desk, or study table. Behind it, in a small recess of the cave wall that formed a nook almost totally hidden from view, was a bed and a night table. The dark colours, the lack of lighting and the general stony outlook of the cave gave it a morbid, sinister aura — one absolutely needed to be a Dark Wizard to feel at ease in the place.

Lord Maldemort sat down at what used to be Voldemort's desk, and addressed Draco sternly and gravely.

"Son, the time has now come for you to understand the reason of our journey... It is time for you to become a man, an adult — and choose for yourself a side on which you will fight."

Draco squinted, as if trying to gauge what his father was saying... "But Father, I will always be on your side!"

"That is exactly the point. I will speak to you as your father for the last time, Draco", Lucius said with a somewhat menacing tone. He went on to explain the passing of powers that had occurred a week before.

There was a long pause when explanations were finished. Draco seemed at a loss for words, and yet a malicious grin was slowly forming across his pointed chin.

Maldemort continued, "You will now know me as all my followers will — Lord Maldemort, rightful heir to Lord Voldemort, and soon to be the all-ruling Wizard over the Magical World! That is why it will become crucial that you choose a side, and that you pledge your allegiance to me!"

"Father, why don't we — "

"SILENCE! YOU WILL ADRESS ME AS LORD MALDEMORT — LUCIUS MALFOY IS NO LONGER, EVEN TO YOU!"

Draco quickly corrected himself. "Forgive me, Great Lord, this is sudden, I meant no disrespect... I swear, before you and every member of our noble family and everything that will have stood for over the centuries, that I will serve you — even to death!

Maldemort seemed pleased. "Very well, very well. Now —"

"Will our first objective be to get rid of Harry Potter, Master?"

"Indeed, Draco, indeed. There is a way — and it is to be found in this very room! We must look for a very old Dark Magic Grimoire, entitled 'Imperium Antiquus' — 'The Old Rule' ... Let's get to it now."

It didn't take them long to come upon the book, since it was one of the thickest and oldest volume in the whole cave, and was adorned — once the dust was removed — with a bright burgundy leather cover. Lord Maldemort laid it with great care on the stone desk, sat down solemnly and perused it with a malicious grin. He finally stopped at a particular chapter, and started to pay more attention. He read the chapter carefully, and then read it again. After reading it a third time, he got up and carefully closed the book.

He lifted up his arms towards the ceiling in a gesture of triumph, looked up, fire in his eyes, at the big stone chandelier hanging from the highest point of the cave, and started laughing out loud, without stopping — "Potter, this is the end! You are MINE, and you will pay! Revenge will be sweet to all Pure-blood Wizards!"

Draco was extremely excited and jumped with enthusiasm, and started towards the desk to look at the book for himself. He tried to open it on the table where Maldemort had laid it down.

Maldemort turned around very swiftly, and a split-second later pronounced the curse: "Crucio!" Draco was catapulted on the wall behind him and fell to the floor, writhing with pain, that fortunately for him didn't last very long.

"YOU HAVE NO BUSINESS in this book, Draco! Only I can have access to it — and those who try will pay with their life! This was a warning! You heed my orders, and do not try to interfere! Your time will come, just as it did for me. But you will first learn to submit yourself to the Dark Lord!"

With a faint whisper, Draco replied, "Yes, Master!" He painfully got back up, and even though his pride had been quite beaten, he managed to sit down on one of the chairs, panting. He shot a glance at Lord Maldemort, who had gone back to studying the book. His yellowish, serpentine eyes turned again to Draco, and with a malevolent smirk, he got up and started walking back and forth across the room, like an elated teacher about to give the most important lecture of his life.

"Draco, listen! This book, Imperium Antiquus, is the foundation upon which the Magical world has existed for thousands of years. In it are enunciated many unbreakable principles, that make the Wizarding world possible — without them, we could not and would not exist. They were set down, at the dawn of times, by the first men who discovered they had abilities that surpassed those of their fellow human beings. One of the most foundational — if not THE most important — of them all is the one they call 'Imperium Antiquus', 'The Old Rule' — so crucial is it that the whole book was named after it. It states, to put it plainly, that Wizards and Muggles co-exist in a delicate, very fragile balance. And more importantly, the Old Rule explains that to give Muggles a chance — since they have no magical powers —they were given, at the beginning of times, ONE ability that Wizards would never have fully. It is the power of community, the power of unity, the ability they have to sustain one another — as a race, and as individuals — through the most formidable obstacles. In short, it is the power of determined, unbridled, unconditional love. It is that power, manifested by his mother dying to save his life, that allowed Potter to survive Voldemort — and later, to defeat him at such a young age... Voldemort said he should have known to kill the SOURCE of it, and I am now seeing what he meant.

Draco's face showed he didn't quite understand how this fact, which he considered a weakness — caring for others — could help them get rid of Harry Potter.

"I see you don't quite follow, but wait — here is the key. The founding wizards also stated that to insure there would always be a balance between the two worlds, the Wizarding kind would also be linked forever through this Muggle power of 'community'... And to make absolutely sure of that, the founding Wizards performed a complex charm that propagated itself to the entire Muggle race. This charm allowed that once in a while, at random, a full-fledged Wizard would be born from two Muggle parents, a cross-over — and this would be enough to keep the two worlds inextricably linked together, without one taking the other over. The presence of cross-overs amongst the pure-blood wizards would make sure, they figured, that the two worlds would survive alongside each other. But! Listen carefully to what the rule says after."

Maldemort walked back with excitement towards his table, where the book was laid, and started reading from it.

"_But reader, beware! Should there be a sinister day when not one single cross-over is left, one should cry out for a black plague to sweep the land and shorten the sufferings. For the death of the last of the cross-over will bring dark skies, and allow for evil forces to fill the land. The Old Rule will be no more, and those who would seek power, for power's sake, will reign free."_

Draco was thinking furiously hard, but couldn't still quite see the big picture. He was starting to get an idea, though, and looked inquisitively at his master for more insight.

"DON'T YOU SEE? There lies the key to killing Potter, and to establishing our true kingdom as Dark Wizards! Potter's power comes from this 'love', from this energy he gets from Muggles! His mother was one, he's a half-breed. But better yet — if we eliminate all the cross-overs, the wizards born from two Muggle parents, we will bring about the death of the Old Rule. And we'll be able to take over the world, and establish ourselves as rulers, once and for all!

Draco finally — and quite suddenly — got it. His years with Crabbe and Goyle hadn't helped his power of reasoning... "Mudbloods! We have to kill the Mudbloods!", he snickered to himself, wide-eyed. He immediately got up from his chair and a twisted, malicious smile stretched from one side of his face to the other as he looked straight at Lord Maldemort, who seemed to enjoy seeing Draco finally grasping the big picture.

"Oh, I know just where to start, Master! Please, let's kill that filthy Granger Mudblood! Potter never admitted it, but he always had a thing for her, and she for him. We'll kill two birds with one stone! We will launch our master plan, and we will weaken Potter at the same time!"

"That", Maldemort said with a decisive look, "is an excellent plan, Draco, an excellent plan. That is EXACTLY where we'll start..."


	4. Of Love and Wounded Pride

HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author warning: Hermione and Harry's thread are still here, beware! And Hermione is present in Harry's, so be attentive. The good news is that they are converging in this chapter. Thank you for bearing with my creative writing!

Chapter 4

Of love and wounded pride

"This is your captain speaking, please fasten your seat belts, our plane will now be starting our descent towards Bucharest International Airport!"

Hermione opened her eyes. She had dozed off. She looked out the window again, but all she could see was a menacing black sky, and pouring rain. She started gathering her things slowly, and as she was putting her latest purchase away in her handbag — a thick book entitled "Advanced charms for scientific research" — the note she had been using as a bookmark slipped out. Seeing the familiar writing on it jabbed at her heart — the painful heartache she had suffered a few hours earlier came back with a vengeance.

The plane finally landed, and Hermione slogged her way through the terminal, waiting patiently to take care of the formalities associated with Muggle traveling — it wouldn't have been her first choice, but her parents had insisted and even purchased the tickets: they felt more at ease with her traveling this way. They were somewhat scared since the happenings of the previous years in the Wizarding world, and even though Professor Dumbledore had done his best to explain much of what was going on to them, the general picture they had gotten was enough for them to be concerned with Hermione's safety.

The customs officer, a burly man with no neck and a stern face, examined her passport thoroughly, then looked at her, and repeated this manoeuvre a few times before letting her go through. She started looking at once for the person that was supposed to wait for her. As she eyed around the terminal, she saw someone — not Viktor — holding a huge sign that just said "GRANGER", in large colourful letters.

Slightly embarrassed at the sight of her name in such bold letters, she ran quickly to the man that was waiting for her. He was dressed with a black suit and tie, over an impeccable white shirt. By the hat he was wearing, she determined he was some kind of driver.

"Miz Granger, I prezzume?" He produced a flashy identification card, on which a picture of himself was smiling and waving enthusiastically… The card also indicated he was Otto Kraspen, from "Krum Broom Supplies International Inc."

"Yes, I am, thank you." Hermione lowered her voice. "But you should be discrete with this magic picture… We are in a Muggle airport!"

"Ov course! I'm not uzzed to this", replied the driver, now looking around him nervously with suspicion in his eyes. "My name iz Otto; Mizter Krum could not come perzonally to pick you up, and he requested that I drive you to your hotel room. He will communicate with you next Monday, after you've had sufficient time to rezt."

"Oh, that's so nice of Viktor, make sure you tell him I appreciate that very much!"

Today was Wednesday. Hermione felt suddenly grateful that she would have a few days to be by herself. She needed to sort a few of her feelings out, and also to take care of her personal affairs. The house she had rented would not be available for another two weeks, and she still needed to sign the lease. She gladly followed Otto through a large door, adorned with a gold-trimmed sign that said "VIP only", and after following a long and narrow corridor, they arrived to a seemingly very exclusive indoor parking area, where a long stretch limousine was waiting. Otto opened the door, and Hermione took her seat in the spacious car. She let out a long sigh, and closed her eyes for a moment. As the car sped along the expressway en route towards her hotel, she reluctantly took out Harry's note from her handbag, and read it again.

_Hermione, know that I love you, and that I care deeply for you. I would die before I would let anything happen to you. I can't bear seeing you hurt. _

As she read this last sentence over and over, Hermione broke down completely, and didn't even try to hold back her flooding tears. She knew, somewhere deep within, that Harry hadn't meant to hurt her. She also felt responsible, well aware that she hadn't been forthcoming with Harry about her real feelings. "But all this can't happen now", she muttered to herself… "It — it just can't!"

--------------------

Harry had received the letter a couple of days after he had sent Hedwig from his study. He had been relieved to see that Hermione seemed to have come back to her senses.

_Dear Harry,_

_Thank you for your note. You made the right choice, because seeing you would have made me more upset, and I don't know what would've happened… For sure, I owe you some kind of explanation._

_I would like us to talk more about this, but I'm honestly quite scared. Nevertheless, if you're free tonight, let's meet at the Leaky Cauldron around 7pm, and we'll sort this out._

_Hermione_

"At least we'll put this matter to rest", he said to himself as he looked at himself in the mirror. He spent a few minutes studying the features of his face, concluding he wasn't too bad looking. The hair however remained the same, unruly and untidy, a thick black mane sticking up on his head in every direction. He had given up on it a long time ago.

He exited the house through the backdoor, and jumped on his broom, a brand new Firebolt that had proven to be — to him, anyway — the best broom there ever was. He looked around, and felt at peace seeing the restored water fountain, and the multiple gardens; Dobby had been working hard to bring back their original, astounding look, and his efforts were now being rewarded: flowers of all sizes and colours were blooming in full force all around the walled enclosure. On top of being a space where Harry could come and relax, the yard had yet another feature, a practical one: with the help of Professor Dumbledore, Harry had charmed the high brick walls surrounding the yard in such a way that anybody taking off towards the sky would be concealed until he reached an altitude of around a thousand feet, which was sufficiently high to keep any flying wizard from prying Muggle eyes. He had taken the habit of flying whenever he could, and since the roof of the Leaky Cauldron was protected in the same way, he usually flew there.

Just before taking off, Harry was struck by a crazy idea. He impulsively dismounted his broom, and approached one of the rose bushes adorning the middle of a spectacular flowerbed. He waved his wand, and murmured "Accio rose!" An astonishingly spectacular pink rose, with hints of dark red on the edges of its petals, detached itself from the bush, and came to rest delicately on his hand. He secured it gently inside his flying cloak, and went back to his broom.

He suddenly felt stupid and embarrassed. "Come on, Potter, get a grip! This is not Cho, or anyone like that… This is your friend!"

He reasoned, however, that the gesture could help Hermione feel better after the way she had left him at the hospital.

"Besides, I don't think anybody ever gave her flowers — except Krum, of course…"

Harry took off with a swift kick of his ankles, amazed at the colours of the night sky above him in this early evening of July. After twenty minutes of an exhilarating flight in the cool summer air, Harry landed lightly on the roof of the Leaky Cauldron. He checked his watch, and noticed he had nearly half an hour to spare. Entering the Cauldron, he went down the familiar wooden stairs and entered the main room through the back. Tom, the wizard with whom Harry now owned the place, saw him at once. Since he spent a lot of his time there, Harry had thought it a good idea to invest some money into the place. He was now a proud co-owner, but left most of the management duties to Tom and his staff, who did an excellent job. Harry's investment, however, had been used to give the place a refreshed, younger look, and a more modern one as well. Business was soaring, and had never been better.

"Hello Harry, how are you tonight? Are you going to be using your usual spot?"

Harry thought for a moment, then shook his head. "No, Tom, I'll take one of the private parlours in the back. I'm meeting Hermione Granger, and we need to talk about important matters — away from prying ears…"

"Sure Harry, take the corner booth in the lounging area, there's nobody in the section, and we're not expecting a big crowd tonight…" Tom added, "I'll make sure to tell Mrs. Granger where to meet you."

"Thank you, Tom." Harry sat down in one of the squash, comfortable leather chairs and took out the rose to make sure it hadn't suffered from the flight. He delicately rested it on the small table beside him, and saw that it was intact — and still breathtakingly beautiful. Tom soon came back with a tall mug of butterbeer, and Harry took a long gulp, thirsty after taking in so much of the evening's fresh air.

His thoughts wandered to Hermione, and the reason he was there. He felt weird about meeting her, and scared at the same time. They were going to talk about personal issues, which was a rare occurrence with Harry — and Hermione. He tried to remember when was the last time he had had an open talk with Hermione about anything else than school, Voldemort, Ron, or other subjects of the same genre.

Harry came to the conclusion they had never — ever — taken time to discuss feelings, emotions, and such. "Wow! I guess this will be very inter —"

"Hi Harry, I hope you haven't been waiting long…" Hermione said as she approached the booth.

For a moment, Harry was taken aback. Hermione was wearing a light blue dress, and had tied her hair into a neat bun, a style that for once allowed her best features — her face and eyes — to really shine. Made of a jeans-like fabric, the dress itself was very simple, with long sleeves, a high neckline and a slight pull-in at the waist; it fell nicely in a narrow line that stopped just above the knee. Yet, it was so rare for Harry to see Hermione in a dress that he thought she just looked radiant. For one rare moment since becoming Hermione's friend, Harry saw her for what she really was: very simple but yet, beautiful, charming, and very attractive.

"Wow, Hermione, I didn't know this was a formal meeting", Harry said with a pretend sarcastic-tone, "I would have dressed a lot better!"

Hermione looked down at herself, then back up to meet Harry's eyes. "Oh, no, no! I had to meet people from Krum Broom Supplies today in London, and that WAS a formal affair, so that's why I'm dressed this way. I came straight here after, and didn't have time to change. I'm much more comfortable in jeans and a sweater, as you know."

Harry replied, "I'm just kidding, of course. You look…" Harry became very much aware, all of the sudden, that he was about to pay Hermione — his friend — a gentlemanly compliment. "You look beautiful — stunning actually — I hope you know that." He now caught himself really looking at her anew — still his friend, but nevertheless a really cute and attractive girl. Harry thought she had nothing to envy Cho, or Parvati Patil, or any of her classmates.

As she sat down, Hermione bit her lip and gave him a friendly tap on the shoulder. "Oh, get off it! You don't have to be extra-nice with me, I don't deserve that."

There was a moment of silence. Harry didn't quite seem what to say. Why was it now difficult to start a conversation, why was there a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach? He then remembered the last time they had met, and focused on the fact that the air needed to be cleared. But then, he suddenly remembered something else.

"Oh! I almost forgot, I brought you something, I thought you might like this, I got it from my backyard," he said as he gave Hermione the rose he had clipped from his garden.

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she instantly blushed into a nice shade of purple at the sight of the rose. She took it from Harry's hand, her eyes now shining with tears. She looked at it for a very long, awkward moment, trying to compose herself.

"Thank you, Harry, it's so beautiful… It's lovely!" she said finally, in a whisper barely audible. Hermione's heart was pounding, as she was completely overwhelmed by the gesture. With the exception of Viktor Krum, who gave flowers like a factory, nobody had ever given her flowers —not even Ron — in a gesture so simple, and yet so meaningful and heartfelt. Harry had taken the time to choose a flower from his garden, with the sole purpose of giving it to her. She fought back the tears as hard as she could, not wanting to make Harry uncomfortable. She took out her handkerchief, and wiped her eyes delicately.

Harry had expected a more cheerful reaction. He didn't do well with tears… Why did girls — and now, even his best friend — absolutely want to cry when they were around him? He seemed "gifted" in that area, and that was exactly why he had NOT enjoyed his few moments with Cho a couple of years back.

_But this is Hermione_, he thought to himself. _I should be able to deal with HER tears, at least_. He tried to stay with it, feeling as uncomfortable as ever.

"Hermione… Are you okay? You seem somewhat… on edge these days… What's going on?"

Hermione looked up at him with a forced smile, despite her puffy eyes. "Oh, Harry, I'm just… These last two years have been really draining, and now my emotions are getting the best of me. And I had this HUGE decision to make, and the stress of it all has been a bit too much…"

Harry got the impression she was carrying a heavy burden, and that she wasn't telling him everything. He could relate, however, to her last statement.

"Yeah, tell me about it! I've been wrestling myself with wanting to yell and scream at someone, and yet I feel so empty that I could just wail until I have nothing left… Everybody thinks I'm this big hero, this amazing wizard, but inside I feel like I've been deceiving everybody. I feel like I'm dead inside, like I've nothing left to give." Harry had spoken with some shame, gazing at the table in front of him; looking up at Hermione, he was surprised to see her hanging to his every word… The background faded and all he saw, suddenly, were her bright brown eyes glittering with tears. He read trust, compassion, desperation, and even — it couldn't quite grasp it — something deeper in them. He felt his heart race as a memory flash of his last battle with Voldemort came back to him… The same eyes, speaking to him, saying "I… I love you!"

Hermione's voice brought him back from his thoughts. "You're still my hero, you know. I learned courage and strength of character by looking at you. I learned to fight by fighting with you. And… I am still here because you saved my life, so many times… No matter how discouraged or how despondent you get, I know who you truly are." Hermione choked, and bit her lip quite hard. She finished her sentence in a whisper. "And that's enough for me."

Somehow, these words had a very profound effect on Harry. He took in Hermione's words, and it dawned on him that he didn't need to do things people expected of him. He just had to be true to himself, true to what his parents would have raised him to be… True to what his best friend, a ravishing young girl he was barely beginning to discover in depth, knew of him. And that was enough for him too.

Harry started laughing, and called Tom. "Bring us a round of butterbeers, mate…"

Hermione looked at him in a strange way, as if she didn't get what had just happened, and not sure whether to feel upset or not. "Did I just say something funny? Why are we celebrating?" Didn't Harry realise that she had just spilled her guts on the table? That she had come very close to revealing a big part of the deep secret she was carrying?

Harry gently cupped Hermione's face with his hands, and looked at her straight in the eyes: "Hermione, YOU may have just saved ME, for once! This is why we must celebrate!"

Hermione didn't quite understand, but remained silent. The beverages arrived, and after they had both taken long gulps, Harry was suddenly taken with an idea.

"Hermione, are you hungry, did you have supper?" Harry himself hadn't had anything to eat since lunch, and his stomach was starting to remind him.

Hermione smiled, and with glee replied, "As a matter of fact, no!"

"Then, let's order! My treat!"

Harry called Tom back, and they ordered dinner from the menus he provided. They ate, talked and laughed about life, about becoming friends and their successes and failures in school, and they reminisced about their adventures and the high — and low — moments of their relationship. Time seemed suspended, when suddenly, after desert, Harry kept silent and locked his eyes on Hermione's, looking at her somewhat differently than he always had.

He broke the silence. "If I didn't know better, I'd think we were on a date!"

Hermione blushed and smiled timidly, but sighed heavily and looked away without replying. Somehow, Harry felt the time had come to talk about the question that was the reason of their meeting.

"So… About me breaking you and Ron up. Would you care to elaborate?" Harry was grinning, and had a sparkle in his eyes as he said it.

Hermione nearly choked on her drink. "Right, that IS why we're here, isn't it…"

"Indeed."

Hermione bit her lip again, apparently torn by what she was about to say. "Well, as my intimate relationship with Ron progressed, I increasingly felt that you, Ron and I worked well as friends… Ron and I argued, and you were the buffer between us. But without you — Hermione looked down, apparently embarrassed — Ron and I could not sustain a relationship. You were the glue that held us. So that's why I said it was because of you…"

Harry was perplexed. Her answer didn't seem to validate the emotion with which she had said it at the hospital. "I don't understand your reaction, then… If it was so simple, you could have just explained it to me!"

"It's just that I didn't expect such a direct question about this, and I have a few unresolved issues on the subject with Ron… I just took me by surprise, that's all."

Unsure, Hermione looked up at Harry for a sign that she was off the hook. She desperately hoped that Harry would not want to go further.

"Yeah, Ron is somewhat in the dark for the reason of your break-up", Harry brooded, looking at the wall behind Hermione, and trying to add everything up.

Hermione's face turned aghast with disbelief and anger. "What do you mean, he's in the dark? He's the one that told me he couldn't compete with you… That he refused, in his love life at least, to always be second-best. And that I had to rethink my friendship with you if he was going to stay with me…" Hermione was fuming, and her eyes were teary again. "What did he tell you, anyway?"

Harry was as dumbfounded as Hermione. Why would Ron lie to him, and play this whole "I don't have a clue" part?

"Er, Hermione, I don't know what to say. Ron just said that you both came to the conclusion that you were just friends, and that there was never an 'official' break-up. He told me that you both left for the summer holidays, and that was it!"

Hermione was almost screaming now. "That stupid, selfish, mean git!! That's not the half of it! I can't believe him!"

"Why don't you calm down, and try to explain to me what happened?" Harry had never seen Hermione so upset, and suddenly felt like he had ventured on a field of land mines, and that he was about to cause a chain reaction from which they could perhaps never recover.

Hermione closed her eyes, and took a deep breath, and started her story. "Well, we started dating and everything was fine for a while, I guess the novelty of it and all. But Ron is right on one thing — we did realise, after Christmas, that we couldn't continue as boyfriend and girlfriend. We were sitting together at some point in January, reminiscing about when we met and how we became a trio after the troll incident in the girls' bathroom, how life as friends of Harry Potter had impacted us. I was about to bring up the dilemma of our own relationship, but I first made a comment that I intended as a joke — I said, 'I guess our life will always have to include Harry!' Right after I said that, Ron became red in the face and exploded. He started ranting about the fact that he would not let himself be overshadowed by you again, and that he was tired of living up to your image. And then…"

Hermione choked, and paused for a moment. She looked up at Harry with a pitied expression on her face, as if she was about to say something that would probably hurt him. "And then he told me that I should look deep within myself to find out what you really were for me. He said that he was fed up of always hearing me talking about you, that the sound of 'Harry this, and Harry that' was driving him nuts, and that he thought maybe I should be with you, not him. I was appalled, of course, and I gave him a piece of my mind. That's when I told him that if he really thought that way, we'd best go our separate ways…"

Harry couldn't believe it. Ron, his best friend, had not only lied to him, but he had managed — once again — to use him as a scapegoat for his own insecurities. Not that he was entirely surprised: Ron had done it before, in their fourth year, and they had spent quite a bit of time not speaking to each other.

"What did he do after that?" Harry asked.

"Well, he just said 'fine, then', and that was it. After that, we were so busy with exams and other things that we avoided each other…" There was a long, awkward silence. Hermione was clearly uncomfortable, and looked at her watch. "Oh, my, look at the time, maybe we should call it a night. I still have a lot of things to take care of tomorrow, I'm leaving soon as you know."

Harry felt a pang in his stomach as she said it. But there was one thing in her explanation of their break-up that was bothering him, and before he could stop and think about how to say it, it just came out.

"Hermione… Um, is there any truth in what Ron told you? Do you think, maybe, that he was onto something?"

Hermione's face turned beet red, but she quickly tried to hide behind her usual self-righteous attitude. "Of course not, Harry Potter! You're my friend — even my best friend, I must admit… But I would never do anything to jeopardize what we have. To imply otherwise is ludicrous!"

There was something ambiguous in her statement that left Harry really puzzled… He replied tentatively, looking at the floor. "Cause, er, Hermione, if there was something more, I would be more than —"

Hermione now looked like she was going to have an anxiety attack. "BUT HARRY, DON'T WORRY! There's nothing!" Hermione quickly interjected, "we're FRIENDS!"

Harry realised he was hitting a wall, and that he wouldn't be able to get through — at least not tonight. He even got scared of what he had been about to say.

"Well, I guess it's getting late, like you said. Let's go."

Harry walked Hermione to the front entrance. She gave him a soft kiss on the cheek, as they usually did when they parted way, and she walked off into the night. As he climbed the stairs to the roof of the Leaky Cauldron, Harry wondered if their evening — as nice as it had been — had solved anything at all. One thing was becoming certain though; their relationship was changing, and Harry had no idea what to expect next.

As he got to the roof, Harry sighed as he looked at the stars… Something else was definitely wrong with Hermione. Tonight was Friday, July 31st. For the first time in six years, she had forgotten his birthday…

--------------------

"Cm'on, mate, we're going to be late !" said Ron as he ran by Harry's room. Harry had invited Ron to live at Grimmauld Place for the summer, since Ron had to wait until he knew for sure if he was going to play Quidditch professionally. It was more convenient for him to be in London, and Harry was glad to have at least one other person, besides Dobby, living with him in the huge mansion.

Harry had decided not to confront Ron yet with his version of he and Hermione's break-up. Ron had been training really hard to make the Chudley Cannons, and they would announce in only a few days if he had made the team or not. Furthermore, he didn't want to cause a stir just as Hermione was about to leave for Romania. There was enough unresolved issues between the three of them without adding a few more.

Today, however, would be dreadful anyway. Hermione was finally leaving for Romania, and they were preparing to all go and bid her farewell at the airport. Harry had to face the fact that he was going to lose Hermione, at least a little bit. The thought made him sick to his stomach, and yet he couldn't fathom exactly why. _I should be happy for her_, he thought. _I shouldn't be so self-involved that I can't rejoice with my friends._ But the pattern was the same, it seemed, as it always had been: someone he cared about was leaving him, and he was almost incapable of accepting it. Furthermore, there was something about his feelings for Hermione since their evening at the Leaky Cauldron that made her departure even more painful. Without being able to tell what it was exactly, he definitely felt he was loosing more than a friend.

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" They had to be wearing Muggle clothing to get to the airport, so Harry had chosen to wear jeans and sneakers, and a loose fitting shirt on top of a white t-shirt; as always, there was nothing he could do with his hair.

As Harry was coming down the stairs towards the entrance hall, members of their gang started entering the mansion one by one. They had all insisted to be a part of Hermione's farewell "committee". Of course all the Weasleys were present, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Ron, Fred and George and Ginny; Neville and Luna had also wanted to be there, and Harry was glad to see that even Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, as well as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had shown up to bid her goodbye.

Always the pragmatic man, Mr. Weasley had made arrangements with the Ministry to set-up a portkey to get from the house to the airport. It was going to bring them at the lowest level of the indoor parking garage, where nobody ever reached anyway.

"Okay, gather round, gather round, all of you. Place your hand on the back of this chair, and make sure you don't let go! We don't want to lose you somewhere and have to send a search party!"

After ten or twelve seconds of friendly pushing around, everybody was set and good to go.

"On the count of three: one, two — three!!"

Harry felt the familiar jerk in his stomach area, and everything around him faded in a whirlwind of colours and sounds. That didn't help his already queasy stomach. When they landed on the hard pavement of the parking garage, Harry had to really concentrate and take a few deep breaths to not vomit right there. After a few minutes, he got up and everybody made their way towards Terminal #21, where Hermione was to take her flight to Romania.

Apprehension was mounting within Harry as they approached the waiting area near terminal #21. He had let the others walk ahead, trailing behind so he could avoid any surprise. He kept looking left and right, and all of the sudden she was right in front of him.

"Hermione!" Harry said, "Where were you, I was looking all over for —"

He didn't have time to end his sentence. She grabbed his arm, and dragged him aside towards a sitting area where the others couldn't see them, at least for a few minutes. He looked at her, and thought she was more beautiful than ever. Why, he wondered, was this the first thought that came to mind these days?

"Harry," she started, "There's no other way to say this. I — I'm so sorry — I lied to you the other night… About my break-up with Ron, I mean. The fact is, I didn't tell you exactly everything."

Harry looked at her indignantly, and blurted, "What?? Are you nuts? What if I had gone to Ron to confront him, what would he have said? Hermione, you almost never lie, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Hermione's face showed genuine guilt, and she looked childishly embarrassed. "I — I didn't mean to do it, it's just that I was really scared of your reaction."

Biting his lip and trying to look past what Hermione had just told him, Harry replied, "So what is it that you 'forgot' to tell me?"

"I didn't tell you what I answered Ron when he accused me of always talking about you…" Hermione was looking really frightened now, and she kept avoiding Harry's gaze. "I did give him a piece of my mind, but then I — when he told me 'maybe you should be with Harry', I simply said… 'Maybe you're right, Ron.'"

At the very same moment she said this, her flight number was called on the intercom, beckoning all passengers to prepare for boarding.

Hermione's face became panic-stricken, as she realised she had started something that she wouldn't be able to finish. "That's my flight, I have to go Harry! We'll have to write each other or something…"

Harry was aghast with confusion, anger, fear and — strangely — a slight hint of giddiness or happiness, he couldn't tell which. Not thinking, he did something he had not planned to do at all. Overtaken by something deep within him, he threw his arms around Hermione, and held her in a strong, powerful hug. He buried his face in her hair, and whispered, "Don't leave Hermione, please don't leave." As he said it, he started sobbing, and found that he could not stop. After what seemed to be an eternity, he pulled back and looked straight down in her bright brown eyes, and thought he saw in them something he felt himself…

What followed happened as naturally as it could have. He slowly moved his head to kiss her on the cheek, but somehow their lips met, softly and tenderly, and he felt Hermione's arms wrapping themselves gently around his neck. Time froze, and they were soon lost in the most amazing moment of both their lives. Harry felt like his heart would burst if he continued, but yet couldn't imagine getting away. This was extraordinarily wonderful — even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have imagined how sweet and the amazing this feeling was.

But suddenly, flustered and horrified, Hermione drew back, and said — in a barely audible voice — "Oh no, what have I done! I can't, I have to go… I really can't! I'm sorry, bye Harry."

Harry was shocked, and hurt. Not realizing what he was doing, he let the pain his wounded pride and his anger get the best of him.

"What? You're just going to leave like this? First my parents, then Sirius, and now you? You're just going to LEAVE? You're so selfish… From the first day that Ron and I met you, I knew you considered yourself above us, and I see now that you've come full circle! You're leaving without a care in the world for your friends. Well! Have a nice life, Hermione."


	5. Dumbledore's proposal

HP AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 5

DUMBLEDORE'S PROPOSAL

"HARRY! HARRY! Where are you, mate?" Ron screamed as he set foot in the kitchen of number Twelve, Grimmauld Place. Everyone was back, but most were remaining silent, still in awe of the scene they had witnessed just a few moments before.

Ginny herself was on the verge of tears and flustered; her face showed she wasn't at all happy with the current situation.

"Ron, you better find him, because if I do, I don't know what I will do to him!" she hissed under her breath, obviously furious at the way Harry had treated her friend.

"Did you see her, Ron? Did you SEE her? She was bawling her head off, she didn't even stop to say goodbye to us!! What on Earth did he tell her?"

Ginny was seething, hardly able to contain her anger.

"Let me handle this, Ginny, please … I'll get to the truth!" Ron replied, and he started up the stairs towards Harry's room. He then stopped abruptly after four steps, and changed direction. "The garden!" he said to himself, "he must be in the garden …"

The gang had been anxiously waiting in the lounging area of terminal 21 at the airport, searching for Hermione to make sure they bid her a proper goodbye, wished her the best, and even gave her small presents. It was Ginny and Ron that had seen Harry and Hermione first, from a distance. Harry had seemed really upset: red in the face, he was barking at Hermione quite loudly, with very animated hand gestures. Hermione's reaction to his last statement had been desolating to witness: apparently horror-struck, her mouth had opened, and she had instinctively covered her face with her hands, eyes aghast, and — almost instantaneously — had started walking backwards in slow motion, as if repulsed by what Harry had just said and attempting to put a safe distance between them. She had then spun around and started walking rapidly towards the boarding gate, and she would probably have never seen Ron and Ginny if she hadn't ran right into them. They had tried to stop her, but apparently unable to control herself, she had just shoved past them and waved them off with one hand while keeping the other on her face as a desperate attempt to hide the intense emotional turmoil she was in. As she had passed by, both of them had been shocked to see her whole face shining with tears — she was also crying uncontrollably. Helpless, they had watched her go, entirely in the dark about what had just taken place.

The rest of the gang had looked even more clueless, shrugging their shoulders and nodding their heads, unable to understand what was going on. When Ron and Ginny had finally had the presence of mind to turn around and see where Harry had gone, he had apparently already left the airport.

Ron forcibly swung open the door to the garden, but to his surprise, Harry was nowhere in sight. He made sure to search around every corner: the yard being somewhat like a jungle of flowers these days, it was easy to remain concealed behind some of the flowerbeds and trees. As Ron retreated to go back in, however, he noticed that Harry's broom was missing from the rack installed to that effect right to the left of the backdoor.

"I should have figured he went flying," he muttered to himself. Ron decided to wait a while, and made his way towards the patio area further inside the yard. He sat down, and started to think about the last week's events.

He was feeling somewhat guilty about not telling the entire truth about his relationship with Hermione. Maybe she had told him the real version, and he had misdirected his anger at her … Harry had seemed so anxious to find out what had happened.

First, Ron felt somewhat ashamed of the way he and Hermione had ended things, and didn't feel Harry needed to know about that, since it was mainly a matter of his own stupid pride. Secondly, there was also something else Ron had told no one about. His relationship with Hermione had ended, but he was still debating what his true feelings towards her were. He still cared a lot for Hermione, and felt they had left too many things unsaid.

Hermione's admission that maybe — just maybe — she was "supposed" to be with Harry a couple of years ago had been unequivocal, though. And Ron knew it: she loved Harry, even if she didn't admit it to herself. He sighed heavily, and rolled his eyes. Even in his relationships, Ron felt he came second-best to Harry.

Ron was ashamed to admit that it was becoming increasingly hard — for him, at least — to be Harry's friend. Harry didn't look for it, but his fame and exploits did follow him everywhere — and as Harry's friend, Ron had to live somewhat in the shadows. He had been secretly trying to decide, for the last two years, if he would continue living the rest of his life this way. He was torn: he genuinely loved Harry, and couldn't bear loosing his friendship. But his own pride was telling him otherwise, that he should be making his own way, which just didn't seem to be possible with Harry around.

"If only I could get this gig with the Chudley Cannons, it would change everything", Ron mused out loud … To his extreme satisfaction, Harry had not pursued Quidditch as a post-Hogwarts career. Ron was hoping that he could finally get recognized for what he was and his own talent, without being overshadowed or compared to Harry.

Ron was suddenly startled from his brooding by a small, fast-approaching silhouette up in the cloudless sky … Harry, it seemed, was on his way back.

--------------------

Harry was flying up, trying to get as high as he could, as fast as possible … The blue sky was now starting to turn into a darker shade of purple, stars seemed to be getting closer, and his breathing was becoming shallower. His own sweat were starting to settle in icicles around the neck of his robe, and the cold was biting him cruelly in the face — he even doubted he could pry his hands off his broom handle. Had he been able to look beneath him, he would have been able to make the outline of Great Britain through the disparate clouds, well visible against the dark blue of both the Atlantic and the North Sea.

He didn't care, though, and didn't want to stop. He just wanted to lose himself within the stars, and find peace … Forget what had happened not even an hour ago, forget that Hermione had been there, forget that his stomach was now completely in knots, forget what a cowardly, selfish, insensitive and arrogant jerk he had been. And especially, forget — that Hermione was gone, perhaps forever. The same Hermione he now missed terribly, more than anybody else, if it were at all possible …

Coming to grips to the fact that he wasn't really equipped for space travel, he tilted his broom downward with a jerk of his shoulders, and started to leave the starry sky behind him. As he undertook his descent, he let out a loud, savage and piercing scream into the firmament, trying to expulse the pain, the shame and the sorrow that were eating at him inside…

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGHHHHHH!!"

Harry laid himself flat on his broom, and plunged downwards towards London. He was falling like a shooting star, and the rush of it felt incredibly amazing. For a moment, he thought of nothing else than the dizziness and elated sensation of the free fall, and felt content. It didn't last long, though — he started levelling his fall at around a thousand feet, knowing full well that he could lose consciousness if he let himself fall too long without restraint.

The buildings of London started to come into view, and he finally arrived in sight of the enclosure of number Twelve. He saw, in the distance, a tall, lanky red-haired figure sitting on one of the chairs…

"Ron", he thought to himself. "Great, now I'll get a lecture from the dishonest red head!"

He pulled his broom up, slowing down his descent, entertaining thoughts of turning away. Did he really feel like facing the music, especially if Ginny decided to show her face too? He didn't know what to do at first, but with the little energy he had left, he finally decided to get it over with. Hermione was gone, there was almost no hope she would ever speak to him again, and he determined he might as well get this done so that he could be left alone to cry and sulk, and to try to piece what was left of his life back together.

He landed softly on the tip of his toes, and deliberately went past Ron without a word to put his broom back on the rack.

"I hope you're happy, mate … Goodness! You sure made a spectacular exit at the airport!" Ron said with bitterness and harshness.

Harry smirked, and replied coldly, "As horrible as it may have been, I didn't try to hide, and I didn't lie to a friend to cover up my blunders!"

Ron's face turned red instantly, but he managed to contain himself.

"We'll talk about me later!! What the hell, mate? You hurt her Harry, you REALLY hurt her! I've never seen her like that, not ever! What happened?"

Unexpectedly, Harry fell down on the chair beside Ron's, bent down and laid his face in his hands, then suddenly started sobbing hard, to the point of uncontrollable shaking … All he could manage, between sobs, was a barely audible "I know, I know …"

Ron was furious, but he was nevertheless moved by this breakdown of Harry's. He had never seen him broken like this, and from his standpoint it looked genuine.

"Mate, let's calm down, and talk about it", he said on a more conciliatory tone. He let him cry for a while, until Harry finally managed to get it back together sufficiently to sit up, wipe his face, and look up at Ron.

"I'm — I'm so sorry, Ron, I — there's no way to rationally explain what happened … I just snapped, I guess … I have a hard time controlling my temper, and Hermione — well, she … — she's so hard to figure out these days, and I just couldn't bear the thought of — oh, my God, Ron, I — "

Harry paused and looked at Ron, who seemed quite intrigued at what Harry was trying to say. Ron shifted in his chair, and with a tilt of his head encouraged Harry to continue.

"Go on, mate, I — we all — want to know what happened!"

Harry looked down, and with a whisper, continued. "I couldn't bear to see her go, not after what had just happened … and — and then it hit me : my parents left me, Sirius left me, Hagrid is gone too, and she was about to do the same … Why would she? After a kiss like that, and our evening together a few days before … Why is it that everyone who say they love me end up leaving me? I just got really angry, and lashed out with everything I could grab onto."

Ron's heart sank for a short moment, as he pondered some of the things Harry had just said. Had he really heard the word "kiss"?

"Wait — what exactly did you say —"

"THERE YOU ARE! YOU JERK!" Ginny had had enough of waiting, and burst into the yard like a raging tornado.

Harry was caught by surprise. His reflexes made him get up and go towards Ginny to try to calm her down. "Ginny, please, I was just telling Ron that —"

SMACK!! Ginny slapped Harry real hard across the face, and despite his tall frame he buckled under the blow. Speechless, he backed up a few feet and just sat back down on his chair … Looking at the brick tiles of the patio, he gently massaged his cheekbone with his hand, right where Ginny had hit him. He knew he deserved it.

"Good one, this may leave me with a black eye", he whispered as he tried to look up at Ginny with a forced smile.

"And I hope it hurts, too! I am SO angry Harry! If I had known how you would behave today, I would have never told you what I did the other day!

"GINNY PLEASE!" Ron interjected, standing up between his sister and his best friend, possibly trying to shield him from another blow. "Look, Harry and I are talking about this, okay? One more person will not help, especially you! You are way too upset, just … Just let me handle this, all right?"

Ginny shot her brother a fiery look of disbelief, and spun around and left as abruptly as she had arrived …

Ron looked at Harry, whose eye was already swelling. "She really decked you, mate … Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'll live… Can't say I don't deserve it!" Harry tried to laugh, despite the seriousness of the overall situation.

"Hey, what's this?" Ron interjected, looking up.

They were interrupted by a huge, tawny owl swooping down to deliver a letter to Harry. On it was the official Hogwarts crest, and Harry recognized the writing at once.

"This is Dumbledore's writing", he said, looking perplexed … "Why would Dumbledore write me, I thought we were finally finished with school!"

Ron had apparently forgotten all anger, and was as excited as they had been back in school when mail arrived. "Well open it, mate, let's see!"

Harry hesitated, caught unaware as a painful memory crept on him. When they were at school, Hermione was almost always there when they opened their mail together. He finally tore the envelope open, and took out an official looking letter written on Albus Dumbledore's personal stationary.

_Dear Harry,_

_I am sure that you were not expecting to hear from Hogwarts this soon. However, there are some important matters needing to be discussed before the start of the next school year for which your presence would be greatly appreciated._

_I suggest a meeting this coming Friday morning, at 9 am, in my office at Hogwarts. Let me know by return owl if this is suitable for you._

_Yours,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

"Wicked", Ron whispered, a hint of worry appearing on his face. "What do you reckon it means, Harry? Could it have anything to do with Vol — You-Know-Who?"

Harry's mind was now working frantically. Voldemort had died shortly after he had managed to break the Cruciatus curse … His shrivelled up body had been found on the grounds at Hogwarts, and though his face had been barely recognizable, there was no mistaking what was left of the remaining corpse. Or was there?

"I have no idea, Ron … I don't think so, I mean — I killed him, er, he died trying to kill me just a few weeks ago. There's no way … No, this must be about something else."

Harry was trying to fathom the reasons that could prompt Dumbledore to request a meeting with him, less than a month before school start. Then his stomach sank as he realized there could only be one reason …

"I must have failed one of my NEWT exams, that's got to be it! Great! I'm going to have to take more classes to make it up! Yeah, that's got to be it, I see nothing else." Harry's mood positively went down the toilet as it dawned on him that he would have to be in school without his friends. He'd be laughed at by all those who were looking for flaws in the great Harry Potter — the boy who couldn't even graduate from school.

Even Ron's face, which showed a sad mix of sadness and pity, confirmed that this had to be the reason of the summons to Dumbledore's office.

"Come on", Ron said apprehensively, "it won't be that bad … Ginny still has a year left, and you know a lot of people still …"

Harry smirked as he blurted, "Yeah, sure, the same Ginny who just now almost knocked me out … This is going to be a great year! Just amazing …"

Conveniently abandoning their conversation of before, Harry got up and went in the house, still shaking his head in disbelief.

Ron was left by himself, and started wondering why he was so jealous of Harry's life after all …

--------------------

Harry was pacing Dumbledore's office nervously, waiting for the Headmaster to show up. Professor McGonagall had let him in, but had warned him that Dumbledore had had to tend to an urgent matter in the morning, and that he was due any minute — but nobody knew where he had gone.

Harry's anxiety level was at an all time high. He had expected the morning to be dreadful, but so far it had been absolutely disastrous. He had first woken up at dawn with a start, his scar burning and throbbing with such excruciating pain that he had thought he would faint ... He was the used to a continual, dull ache, but this was new: it was quite reminiscing of the days when Voldemort was alive, and Harry felt his every emotion; yet, it wasn't exactly the same — it seemed more intense, more deliberate. He didn't quite know what to make of it, but knew for sure that it couldn't be good.

Secondly, he had come to Hogwarts with mounting apprehension only to find out that he had to do some more waiting … And third, there had been this weird look on Professor McGonagall's face as she led him to the Headmaster's study, a sort of ominous stare that he had never seen before, in his seven years as McGonagall's student.

"This day", Harry said to himself, "is going to be worse than the one before yesterday the airport …"

The familiar instruments in Dumbledore's office seemed more agitated than usual. There was smoke coming from some of them, and one was spinning particularly fast. Another one, comparable to some kind of gyroscope, was whirring intensely. And in the corner laid the Pensieve, from which a white, billowing vapour was coming; even though he was tempted, Harry knew better this time than to peek inside for a look …

"Good morning, Harry", said a soft, very calm voice.

Surprised, Harry turned around and almost lost his balance at the sight of Professor Dumbledore, who had just stepped in and was immediately behind him. The old wizard looked really tired, and worry was clearly visible in his face. He slowly went behind his desk, and with calm, deliberate gestures, he invited Harry to sit in one of the chairs facing his desk.

"Er, good morning, professor", Harry replied as he sat down.

Dumbledore remained silent for a moment, and joined his hands in front of him before he spoke. He went straight to the point.

"Harry, I have summoned you here for a very important reason … As you know, you have now completed your regular years of schooling at Hogwarts, which were focused on a path of study that could allow you to begin training as an Auror … However, a quick look at your school file, including your latest exam results, and also your — how shall we call it? — record of 'extra-curricular' activities has shed, I believe, new light on the matter …"

Harry bit his lip, took a deep breath and braced himself to hear what he had been expecting for the last two days — that his results had not been up to par.

"Mr. Potter", continued the Headmaster, on a rather unexpected deferential tone, "I have obtained a unanimous agreement from the Board of directors of Hogwarts to extend you an official invitation to become our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, for the school year beginning next September."

Dumbledore paused, and smiled broadly at Harry, seemingly amused at the look of shock on Harry's face.

It took a few seconds for the statement to sink in. Harry's jaw fell, and he let out the breath he had been holding … "I — I — I beg your pardon? Are you telling me I DIDN'T fail any of my NEWT exams?"

"Certainly not, Harry, you actually obtained spectacular results … And it seems to us that having someone who almost single-handedly obtained victory over Lord Voldemort would know a thing or two about defending oneself against the Dark Arts … Not to mention you've taught such a class before!"

Harry was at a complete loss for words. He wanted to speak, but was in such a state of shock that he wasn't able to utter any intelligible word whatsoever.

But Dumbledore was now looking at Harry more intensely.

"This decision was made a week ago. At the time, I had been instructed by the Board to give you a few days to think about it before you gave us an answer. However, a new situation has arisen that prompts me to request an answer by the end of today …

Dumbledore's eyes came into an intense focus, and the Harry recongnized the familial piercing gaze that usually went right through him.

"It seems, I am afraid, that Voldemort — or at least, his essence — has risen once more … I don't know exactly how or when it happened, I have a few theories, but I must consult with other sources first."

"WHAT? So — that's why my scar hurt this morning! But I don't understand, I thought he had died when I broke the curse! We found his body — how is it possible?" Harry's heart was beating extremely fast, and he found himself reliving the entire last year.

The Headmaster's face expression had become terribly grave, and there was a sense of urgency in his voice. He kept looking at the clock on his desk.

"Harry, we will talk about the matter in more details in a few days. But for the time being, I must urge you, Harry, for the safety of our students — and yours — to accept becoming their teacher. Furthermore, I can't tell you exactly why, but my instincts tell me to insure that you keep close to Miss Granger, don't let her too far out of your sight."

Harry's heart instantly skipped a beat. "What? Is Hermione in danger?"

Dumbledore smiled faintly; he obviously knew that Harry's relationship to Hermione was … challenging, these days to say the least.

"Just make sure you can keep close tabs on her. She'll be okay if she is close to you. And — if I may?"

Harry was really dumbfounded now. What was going on with Hermione? Even Dumbledore seemed to want to involve himself with that whole mess.

Dumbledore looked at Harry with fatherly compassion, and said softly. "I once gave your father this advice, a long time ago, concerning a young girl going by the name of Lilly … Listen to your heart, it will tell you what to do — then do it, don't delay."

Harry was didn't quite know what to say. "Er, — Sir? What exactly does —"

But Dumbledore cut him off, apparently not finished. "And last, but not least …"

Harry looked up at Dumbledore. He saw the familial face expression that usually preceded the revelation of something important; he had seen it often when Professor Dumbledore had been about to share a life-changing fact with Harry, something he had done quite a few times during his seven years at Hogwarts.

"I am convinced", continued Dumbledore as he stood up, "that becoming an Auror would greatly limit your potential as a wizard … I have come to glimpse, in seven years, what you true destiny might be. That is why I intend, starting this year, to start training you personally in some of the powerful magic I have come to master myself. That is, of course, if you are willing …"

Once again, Harry was speechless. He managed to catch his breath, and whisper, "I accept, I accept … Both propositions …"

--------------------

"HARRY, HARRY! I CAN'T BELIEVE IT!"

Back from Hogwarts, Harry had just walked in the kitchen when he had been almost knocked over by a definitely excited Ron, who was jumping and screaming all over the place. Harry noticed he was holding a letter with a big red and gold crest on it … There was no mistaking where it had come from.

"Read, mate, read it!" said Ron excitedly … He had obviously been waiting for Harry to return to tell him.

_Dear Mr. Weasley,_

_We are please to inform you that your performance during the Cannons' try-outs were absolutely impressive, and we would like to offer you the position of number one keeper on the team._

_Season starts officially on October 1st. We request that all players who have been selected to present themselves at the entrance hall of the Chudley Cannons' offices in London, where they will be fitted for their uniform, and meet the members of the management team to discuss salary issues._

_The first team practice will take place on October 2nd, and the training schedule will be handed out at the same time. The first official Quidditch game is scheduled for Saturday, October 24th; the Cannons will be receiving the visiting team from Ireland at Chudley's International Quidditch Stadium._

_Once again, congratulations, and we look forward to having you on the team._

_Yours truly, _

_Jerome Banniston_

_General Manager and Head coach_

_The Chudley Cannons_

Harry was overcome by a deep, genuine feeling of happiness. If anybody deserved it, it was Ron. "Congratulations, Ron, that is EXCELLENT news!" Harry said, with the widest grin he had ever produced.

Ron couldn't stay in one place for more than one or two seconds. "I guess I really impressed them with the saves I made against their best chaser, Ian Finkle, or — perhaps it was the way I can really turn quickly on my broom … No! It must have been when I turned upside down on my broom to stop a really strong quaffle throw from Angus McPharlane, another excellent chaser. Harry, d'you know what this means?"

Harry was truly enjoying the moment, he had rarely seen Ron this happy. "No, mate, what?"

"I can get you free tickets to the games!! It will be like old times at school!"

Harry's face dropped as he finished Ron's thought process in his head. "Except for Hermione, of course … She — she's not here anymore, it's not like she can travel here for games."

A shadow fell on Ron's face as he thought of this problem. But he replied as if he had just been struck by a genial idea. "Yeah, that's too bad! But you know, we will play against Romania at some time! We can organize a trip there, and it will be great!"

Harry smirked. "You really have this all figured out, mate! You know, Ron … Hermione … She will really be proud of you. And —"

Harry paused, and Ron saw by his face that he was trying to hold back some tears.

Ron motioned him to continue. "It's okay Harry, things will get better with Hermione, it's just a matter of —"

"No, that's not what I wanted to say, Ron … I just wanted to tell you that I'm proud too. I know it's hard to be my friend sometimes, and I know I get a lot of people's attention. Thank you for sticking with me, all these years! And for once, I'm really glad you got the spotlight, and not me!"

Ron could hardly believe it. Not quite knowing what to say, he just threw his arms around Harry and hugged him. Harry hugged back, and down deep inside they both knew, right then and there, that they would always be friends.

Ron slowly backed away, and his eyes lit up suddenly as he remembered something. "Hey, how did that meeting with Dumbledore go? What was it about? Tell me!"

Harry didn't want to take Ron's moment away. "Oh, it wasn't that bad after all, I won't have to take classes, I passed my exams … But I'll tell you the details later! Why don't we go to the Leaky Cauldron to celebrate your news!"

"Great, let's go!" Ron was almost already out the door …

--------------------

_This should be easy_, Harry thought to himself as he re-read the letter. He looked up at the clock on his desk: it was almost two in the morning, and he was really tired — but couldn't sleep. They had celebrated Ron's newly found fame all afternoon at the Leaky Cauldron, and on the spur of the moment, someone — nobody remembered exactly who — had suggested they organise an impromptu game of Quidditch for the evening. It had been exceptionally fun: owls had been sent, news had travelled really fast, and almost all their school friends that were still in the London area had managed to show up for the game, almost as if they were back in school. Angelina Johnson had left work early to join them; Alicia Spinnet who was already at the Cauldron, had stayed and of course, Fred, George and Ginny had been more than willing to take part. Harry had proven once more that he was still the best seeker not playing Quidditch professionally, by catching the snitch for Ron's team after a gruelling match of almost five hours. And this despite Ginny, who played seeker on Angelina's team, and who had been quite happy obstructing him all evening.

But despite the amazing events of the day — he still couldn't believe he was going to be the next DADA teacher at Hogwarts in less than two weeks — and all the celebrating, Harry felt knotted inside. Many times during the game, he had looked instinctively at the sidelines where many friends were cheering them on, looking for the one face that truly mattered. But of course, she hadn't been there. Hermione would have been really glad to hear about Ron's good fortune, she would have been proud of Harry for becoming — despite everything — a teacher, and she would have really enjoyed the day. But there was more to Harry's despair than just Hermione's absence.

For one thing, he felt absolutely horrible. Sure, over the years, he and Ron had said or done some things that had made Hermione unhappy, or that even hurt her feelings one way or another. But he kept reliving his last moments with her over and over, and he couldn't understand why he had been so harsh with her. He was feeling a mixture of rage, sadness, profound guilt, and most of all, his heart was aching just knowing he had really — really — hurt Hermione this time. This was an insoluble paradox to him — countless times he had risked his life without ANY hesitation for her, so often he had acted instinctively to shield her from harm … But this time had really counted, and he had been unable to protect her … from himself.

And then there was the other thing … Hermione was now more than a friend, he could at least admit that. Harry had been sitting at his desk for nearly an hour now, going over and over the events of the last few days. Was he falling in love with her? Harry wasn't sure, but one thing was certain: he couldn't stop thinking about her, he longed to wrap his arms around her, he would have given anything to just play with her hair and bury his own face in it — more than anything, he just desperately wanted to be with her. The true reason why he hadn't told Ron about his new position at Hogwarts was that he wanted to tell Hermione first. And their kiss goodbye had been — well, it had been the single most wonderful moment of his life, unlike anything he had ever felt … He suddenly had the very sickening impression that he had lost something precious that day at the airport.

"Come on Potter, you've got to break the ice … Just write, and see what comes out!"

But Harry couldn't bring himself to do it. After another half-hour of staring at a blank roll of parchment, he gave up.

"I can't apologize in writing, the whole idea is ludicrous … I have to do something more meaningful", Harry said to himself.

He started pacing his study, wondering what he could do to convince Hermione that he felt horribly bad about his behaviour, and that he was miserable.

He was suddenly struck by an idea. He ran to the drawer of his nighttable in his bedroom, opened it, and took out a small jewelry box. He carefully opened it, and looked at a delicate, beautiful pearl necklace, with a small heart shaped medallion in the middle, on which the word "forever" was engraved … When Harry had inheritated Sirius' estate, he had found a chest in the attic with Sirius' most prized possessions. The necklace and its box had been inside, with a small note in James Potter's handwriting attached to it.

_Sirius,_

_This is what I intend to give Lilly this year for our wedding anniversary. I can't keep it at our house, because she will find it, you know how she is! I will come and get it from you soon._

_Thanks a lot!_

_James_

Harry couldn't hold back tears as he gazed at it. This would have belonged to his mother, had she not been killed a couple of days later by Voldemort. He paused for a while. His mother would have loved Hermione — from what he had learned over the years, Lilly Potter had been a lot like her.

Finding it had meant the world to Harry, but now, he just knew deeply that he wanted to give it to Hermione — not as a "bribe", but because he truly felt she should have it.

He carefully wrapped the box, and wrote a small note to go with it. After Hedwig had left with the package, he hoped that perhaps Hermione would get what he was trying to tell her.

--------------------

Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Harry and Ron had both woke up late, and were enjoying their meal silently. Ron, however, seemed absorbed by something, and kept casting furtive glances at Harry.

Harry himself was somewhat preoccupied. He kept thinking about Dumbledore's insistance on keeping an eye on Hermione. With a sense of foreboding, Harry was becoming increasingly worried.

Harry noticed Ron's glances, and at first, said nothing. But after a while, he couldn't take it anymore.

He looked at Ron. "What's the matter, mate? Is everything okay?"

Ron's cheeks went pink, somewhat. "Er, Harry, did you —" Ron was clearly uncomfortable. "The other day, did you say you and Hermione, er, kissed?"

Harry sighed. _I miss her so much_, he thought to himself. He couldn't believe it had just been three days.

He stared at Ron dreamily. "Yeah, just before I lost it at the airport … But it wasn't just — a friendly kiss, it was … It was more than that."

Ron gave Harry a worried look.

"Harry, do you … Do you have feelings for her? Besides being 'friends', I mean …"

Harry thought about it for a moment.

"Well, I'm confused, Ron. All I know is — I miss her terribly, and long to be with her. I've always liked her a lot, but it's — I feel different about her somehow, and yet, it's like I've been feeling that way the whole time. Is that love? Man, I wish Sirius was still here!"

Ron was grinning from ear to ear, and was surprised to find out that this piece of news didn't bother him as much as he had expected. In fact, he felt genuine happiness for both his friends.

Harry suddenly brought his hand on his face. "I'm sorry, Ron … Maybe I shouldn't be talking like this to you about Hermione … She told, me you know." Harry hesitated and looked up at Ron before he continued. "About your last fight, and your break-up, I mean."

Ron looked embarassed. "Yeah, I figured it out by what you said the other day. I'm sorry I didn't share that part, I didn't feel too proud of it."

Harry suddenly realised what he was doing. "Look, Ron, if this is weird to you, just say so! Maybe you and Hermione need to work things out, I won't stand in the way …"

Harry's heart, however, sank at the thought of letting go of Hermione that way.

Ron started laughing out loud.

"It's okay, Harry. I do need to talk to Hermione, but for another reason. But I can let you in on a secret, I think."

"What?"

Ron whispered as he said it. "She is madly in love with you, Harry. She refuses to see it or even admit it, she's terrified of it, but there's no denying it. I saw it, from up close."

Ron looked down, ashamed to look Harry in the eyes. "It really bothered me at first —"

He paused, searching for the right words to finish his sentence.

"— but I see now that it's meant to be that way", he continued, meeting Harry's bewildered gaze.

Harry was in awe of Ron's maturity about this. He was about to say something when Ron stopped him.

"I'm really happy, Harry. Hermione is more like a sister to me, there's no doubt — I was just jealous of you, of the fact that things always go your way …"

Harry didn't know what to reply. Maybe Hermione did fancy him, but that was before the airport.

But one thing had become undeniably urgent now.

Harry had to see her.


	6. The Secret of Hermione's Heart

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Author's note: I had a great time writing this one. What I love the most about JK's novels are the little moments you find hidden within the story itself. Moments that reveal, one bit at a time, where the story is headed, and — especially — where the relationships are headed. This chapter is dedicated to "moments". I hope you enjoy it!

CHAPTER 6

THE SECRET OF HERMIONE'S HEART

After two weeks of working for Krum Broom Supplies, Hermione knew she had made a terrible mistake. First of all, her first meeting with Viktor Krum had been very telling about his true intentions. Without any subtleties at all, he had invited her for dinner for the following Friday, to talk about old times and "get caught up", he had said with a smile. At first, she had thought it a joke. She wasn't too sure, since Viktor had changed quite a bit, and she almost didn't recognize the man she had once accompanied to the Yule ball. The most noticeable change was his accent: the business world had pressed him to improve his English, and he now spoke with a very obvious Oxford accent. There were other few minor changes in his overall appearance. He now sported business suits, and was generally more sophisticated.

He was serious, however, about taking her to dinner. She went reluctantly, feeling like she at least owed him that for hiring her. He had been, however, a perfect gentleman, and the evening had been pleasant — even if uncomfortable at times.

But it was the work itself that Hermione hated most, and that had turned out to be very disappointing. Her so-called "research position" was in fact a quality-control job, and all she was required to do all day was to take samples from new broom lots and make sure they were responding the way they should to a series of predetermined test charms. Even though Viktor had explained to her that she had been given this position temporarily until she became familiar with the inner workings of the company, Hermione knew this was not the way it had originally been explained to her — in short, it looked very much like she had been lured into accepting any offer, so that Krum could have her close and try to rekindle a relationship with her.

That, of course, was out of the question for Hermione … The Friday morning of her second week, she immediately went to Viktor's office to resign from her position.

When he saw her enter, Viktor welcomed her with a beaming smile.

"Good morning! Your are the perfect ray of sunshine to start my day!"

Hermione looked down, and fumbled her words as she started talking. "Er, I don't think for long, though … Er, Viktor? I don't think this is going to work out … It's not at all what I expected, and I'm really not happy about the work. I thought it over, and I just — I just can't continue."

She handed an enveloppe to Krum, which he knew was a letter of resignation.

Krum's smile vanished, and a certain sadness filled his eyes.

"Hermione, you've only been here two weeks! Don't quit now, wait some more, you'll see that soon the work will be more to your expectations!" There was, however, a slight resignation in his voice, as if he had expected it.

Hermione bit her lip, and decided to be honest. "Viktor, I'm sorry. You've been very kind to me, but — there is also … another reason. I thought I was coming here for a new challenge, but the truth is I was really escaping a difficult situation in my personal life … Staying wouldn't be fair to your company, and to myself."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, and smirked as he replied. "Ah, let me guess. You miss the great Harry Potter, don't you?"

Blushing furiously, Hermione nevertheless tried to look offended. "Viktor, how dare you!? Harry is my friend, I told you times and times again. No, it's like I said, there are things at home I must face once and for all!"

Viktor smiled, and replied softly. "You're a bad liar, Hermione. I know that Harry is too important to you, I don't think you can be that far from him and be happy. I had hoped that — perhaps — things had changed, and that you had moved on …"

He sighed heavily.

Puzzled, Hermione had the distinct impression that she had heard concern and genuine affection in Krum's voice.

"Viktor, are you trying to say something?"

Krum really liked Hermione, but wasn't selfish to the point of denying the obvious. After all, Hermione had been straight with him. He couldn't bring himself to be anything but entirely truthful with her.

"Look, Hermione, it is undeniable that you and Harry have a special bond, and it's a lot more than friendship. Now, maybe you or him — or both of you — have a hard time conceiving it, but it's there, and eventually it's going to torture you both. Go back, and tell him you love him already! You did even when I was with you guys at Hogwarts. Go, Hermione, go be with Harry!"

Hermione was floored. "Thank you, Viktor, you are a true gentleman." She painfully recalled her last encounter with Harry. "I — I'm not sure what I'm going to do, but I'll keep your advice in mind."

After a warm handshake, Hermione left.

She decided, before heading home, to wander off in the open-air market of Bucharest, to try to clear her mind about her situation. For the first time, she had managed to make a wrong decision, and fail at something. Her parents and friends would be disappointed, and she had a difficult time facing it …

The bright and colourful market streets were exactly what she needed. The place was bustling with the sounds of cars, of vendors advertising their products, and of people negotiating and discussing potential purchases. Crowds were checking out the different booths and tables set-up by a wide variety of merchants. One could find almost anything he was looking for: there was a wide assortment of clothes and jewellery, artifacts of all kinds, and numerous sorts of used merchandise. True to herself, Hermione immediately stopped at the table of the first antique book seller she came across, always curious about what she could uncover amongst the piles of discarded old volumes. Hermione, not yet familiar with Romanian, instantly noticed as she was browsing the different books an old familiar song was playing on a radio somewhere — in English.

_When I'm feeling blue, all I have to do  
Is take a look at you, then I'm not so blue  
When you're close to me, I can feel your heart beat  
I can hear you breathing near my ear  
Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love_

Hermione paused as she heard the familiar lyrics, and put down the book she had been perusing. She remembered the song very well: her parents had played it so often when she was a child, and had even danced to it on their fifteenth wedding anniversary party. Hermione had only been nine years old at the time, but that particular evening had been a magical moment — for the first time of her young life, Hermione had seen what it was like to be in love with someone: her parents were staring passionately into each other's eyes, were holding each other close, and after the dance, they had both hugged her and told her that it was "Mommy and Daddy's song"…

From that moment on, Hermione had been hoping that she would one day find someone to love, a man that she could dance with as her parents' song — and hopefully, one day, her song — played on.

Tears started welling in Hermione's eyes as she sat down on a bench to fully take in this moment. All of the sudden, the precarity of her situation hit her like a freight train. She was in the middle of a city where barely anyone spoke her language, in a country far away from her home and the people who loved her, and she felt overwhelmed by anger, frustration, sorrow and loneliness — not to mention a bruised heart.

She thought about Krum's comments. "Yeah, Harry, you sure have a cruel way of showing your love …"

_Anytime you want to you can turn me onto  
Anything you want to, anytime at all  
When I kiss your lips, ooh I start to shiver  
Can't control the quivering inside  
Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love, oh_

Her mind wandered to the last few weeks. She felt like she was really losing it, emotionally.

All her life she had been strong, fearless, and overachieving. Her parents had always pushed her to be the best that she could; and to her, that especially had meant being the best in school. Consequently, she had always gotten top grades, and she had also found most of her self-esteem in her ability to achieve academically.

She had been lonely growing up, though. Her parent's busy dental practice kept them away for long work hours, and her looks — ordinary at best, she had always thought — had often isolated her in school. You had to wonder about the irony: she was often snickered at and teased because of her large front teeth, and yet, her parents were … dentists.

And then … Out of the blue, she had been invited to come to Hogwarts.

It had changed her. More precisely, she had met someone at Hogwarts that had made her change … He had not set out to voluntarily change her, but it had happened nevertheless. Harry Potter's influence on Hermione Granger's life was obvious, and she was starting to feel that she couldn't pretend she didn't see it anymore.

The song was still playing on the radio, and Hermione found herself listening more closely, gazing into the throngs of people, wondering what to do next …

_When I'm feeling blue, all I have to do  
Is take a look at you, then I'm not so blue  
When I'm in your arms, nothing seems to matter  
My whole world could shatter, I don't care  
Wouldn't you agree, baby you and me got a groovy kind of love  
We got a groovy kind of love …_

It suddenly dawned on her that for one very short moment at the airport, she had felt exactly that way. She had been in his arms, and nothing else had seemed to matter …

"Why am I so scared", she muttered to herself, unable to bring herself to even fathom the fact that this is what she had been waiting for, for seven long years …

--------------------

After a long afternoon of walking, Hermione finally made her way to her place, expecting to arrive to an empty but warm and cozy house.

To her astonishement, a tall guy with unmistakable red hair was sitting on the front porch, apparently waiting for her.

Hermione suddenly went into a panic. "Ron! What — what are you doing here? Oh my goodness, is Harry —"

Ron jumped up and ran to her, smiling. "No, no, don't worry! Everyone is fine, Hermione … But — how are you?"

Seeing Ron brought her emotional turmoil violently back to the surface. She immediately threw her arms around him, and started sobbing heavily.

Ron closed his arms around her, holding her tight, and whispered in her ear. "It's okay, just let it out, all right?" After a few minutes, he gently walked her back towards the porch, his arm still around her shoulders, and they sat down.

Oddly to Ron, she remained tightly clutched to him, and leaned her head on his chest just below his shoulder; her tears didn't seem to be stopping.

After a few minutes, she slowly straightened up, and looked at Ron with a faint smile, and gratefulness in her bright, wet brown eyes.

"Thank you, that felt good … Let's go in, I'll make some tea."

After bringing the tea, she sat down with Ron on her couch and stared at the table for a long time. On it, a small package was resting, unopened. Hedwig had brought it the week before, and she hadn't been able to bring herself to open it.

Ron noticed the package too, and also Hedwig on a small perch in the corner; she was eating a small mouse, and seemed quite content in Hermione's care.

"Harry is worried, Hermione … He sent this almost two weeks ago, and he's been hysterical about not getting an answer … I reckon he'd already been here to see you if he hadn't been so busy with Hogwarts …"

Hermione looked up at Ron quizzically. "Hogwarts?"

"Yeah, Harry's being summoned there all the time by Dumbledore since you left; he's not very forthcoming about it either … I think that maybe he failed some of his NEWT last year, but he doesn't want to tell me."

Hermione's eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Ron, did Harry send you here?"

Ron shook his head vigorously. "No, goodness no! In fact, I think he'd be positively furious to know I'm here. He doesn't know, I came here from my own accord. I — I really need to talk to you about, er, our relationship."

Gazing into space, Hermione nodded, as if she knew she had to face the unavoidable. She reflected for a moment …

"It's really hard, moving on, isn't it? School was so fun, with you and Harry, I really miss it … Now, all these difficult decisions."

Ron didn't quite know what to say. He just nodded, and softly put his arm around her shoulders. In a quite natural way, she slowly laid her head on his shoulder, happy not to be alone.

After a rather long silence, Ron broke the ice.

"Hermione, what happened? I know, that at the end, our relationship wasn't going anywhere. But when did it change? I remember our fourth year, and the Yule ball, and it seemed so obvious that we liked each other … I didn't like Krum being around you, you quite didn't like Fleur being nice to me. But then, at the end of the year, you kissed Harry goodbye, not me. Our fifth year was really weird … It's like I had all these accomplishments — I became prefect, I made the Quidditch team, I helped Gryffindor to victory — and yet you barely noticed. And the summer after, all of the sudden you did want to get together, but —it wasn't really the same, it's like you had changed, or something."

Ron had said all this really fast. Hermione looked away, and silent tears started streaming down her cheeks.

She looked up at him, with an imploring look. "Oh, Ron, I'm so sorry! I never meant for you to get caught in the middle of my …"

She paused, having a hard time to speak through her sobs. She managed to get a hold of herself, and with a more resolute voice, started explaining herself.

"Ron, the year of the Yule ball was quite difficult for me. I discovered, to my surprise, that I might be attractive enough for guys to notice me. When Viktor told me he had been coming to the library just to try to talk to me, I was so flattered I accepted his invitation right away … But I had expected that you or Harry would — ask me to go, or at the very

least wonder if I was going with someone. But neither of you did …"

Ron looked down at the floor, his face flustered with remorse of the whole misunderstanding that year …

Hermione continued. "I could understand why Harry didn't, I mean, he was all about Cho that year, and he had the Triwizard Tournament to worry about … But my feelings were really hurt when you came at the last minute, assuming nobody would have asked me. That's why I was so upset that night, and I took out my frustration on you, and harped you about it all year."

Ron realised that even when they were dating, they had not talked about this. "I'm sorry Hermione, it was — well, I always had seen you as 'one of the guys' up to that point, and all of the sudden, you were … Well, a girl like all the others! So I — I just felt all awkward with you, and it never came out right."

Hermione smiled indulgingly at Ron, and went on.

"Something else happened, that night … It was very subtle, but — it was Harry. Harry and I saw each other on the dance floor, and his face was different. He noticed me, but not as just a friend. There was — a twinkle, in his eyes, for just a moment."

Hermione stopped briefly, took a gulp of tea, letting Ron digest what she had just revealed him.

Ron's face reddened. "What? Does that mean that the whole time we dated, you really liked Harry?"

Hermione had expected this, and quickly interjected. "Well, it's a little bit more complicated, Ron. The Yule ball opened my eyes to the fact that both of you could see me as more than just a bookworm and a partner in crime, and I was confused. For the rest of the year, it made me furious to see Fleur Delacour being extra-nice to you — AND Harry …"

Ron's face went from a hard frown, of someone who doesn't quite understand, to the enlightement of someone who has seen the light.

"Blimey, Hermione! So you loved us both at the same time?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your emotional range has not evolved very far from the tea spoon, now has it? DIDN'T you notice, after the ball, when Rita Skeeter wrote I was Harry's girlfriend, that it was Harry telling everyone that I wasn't, and not — me?"

Ron's eyes went wide. "So I was right before — you … really fancied Harry better then?"

Hermione couldn't avoid blushing this time. "I don't know, it was confusing at the time. I just liked the idea of being Harry's 'girlfriend'. He didn't share the same feelings then, though. And — you were constantly jealous of Viktor, so I didn't know what to think. But — I just couldn't sort out who was 'friend', and who was, well, more."

Ron's face had suddenly become very difficult to read. "So, I guess I never had a chance against Harry, hey?"

Hermione couldn't lie to Ron anymore. It had been her mistake, she had to face the consequences.

"Ron, please believe me! I've been doing some soul-searching lately, and I'm just coming to terms with some of my true feelings. I never meant to hurt you, but —"

Hermione's voice seemed to get caught up in her throat, and became a barely audible whisper.

"I've — I've loved Harry from the first time I've met him, I think. At the end of our fourth year, when I kissed him, I already knew."

Right then and there, Hermione's worst fear came true. She had been looking at the floor, and glanced at Ron from under her hair. He wasn't saying anything, his face was as cold as a brick wall.

He finally spoke. "You should have told me this a long time ago, I mean. It's weird to find out it was all fake —"

Hermione's voice climbed up. "No, no! It wasn't! You've got to understand! Harry didn't seem to want to be anything more than my friend, and … I really love you Ron, you were a natural choice."

Slowly, Ron smiled in a dumbfounded kind of way. "I was just playing with you just now, Hermione … I've known for a while you love Harry, I knew when we broke up, remember?"

Relieved, Hermione nevertheless gave Ron a small punch on the shoulder. "You git! Why were you torturing me like that?"

Ron's grin became even wider. "Well, I did want to know about this whole Yule ball thing, it was confusing for me too. But I know you love Harry, it's undeniable. And now, please answer his owl, he's going nutters in London. He thinks you're never going to speak to him again."

Hermione looked up in Ron's eyes, and paused. "Well, he was really mean to me, you know. What he said really hurt …"

"I know, but he's miserable. He didn't mean it, he just —"

Ron wondered if he should say anything more. He decided just to tip her off.

"I think he's just discovering that, well, he may be in love with you too."

Hermione's face lit up. Was it truly real, after all this time?

"Thank you, Ron, you're really a good friend, you know! Don't — don't tell Harry anything, okay? I need to sort this out on my own."

"Of course, of course," Ron said looking at his watch.

"It's getting really late, I'd better go. I'll see you soon, I hope!"

After kissing her goodbye, Ron walked into the night, and with a loud cracking sound, he disappeared into the night.

--------------------

Harry was coming undone at the seams.

He was completely alone in his house at number twelve, Grimmaud Place, except for Dobby. Ron had left early in the morning, mentionning some "errands" he had to run; Harry looked up at the clock: it was now ten thirty-five in the evening, and he was still nowhere to be found.

"Where has he gone?" muttered Harry, who usually didn't keep tabs on Ron, but thought strange that he would be gone all day without telling him anything.

The last week had been a whirlwind … He had been spending the biggest part of his last week in and out of Hogwarts, meeting secretly with Dumbledore and other members of the Order of the Phoenix as they had worked to recall the order into active duty — not that the last truce had been very long. It felt weird for Harry, who was now a full-fledged member of the Order. They had put him in charge of field operations, which meant he was supervising the activities of more or less everybody.

Harry hadn't told Ron what exactly was going on. Truth be told, he just hadn't had the time. He hoped, all of the sudden, that all the mystery wasn't the reason for Ron's absence. He would need him soon enough.

The kitchen table was full of newspapers, and Harry was growing increasingly worried as they all hinted to one thing: some kind of offensive was on. The numerous news reports were all different and discrete, but yet shared the same characteristics: an oddly high number of "unexplained" deaths, multiple acts of "terrorism" and so-called "vandalism". The reports often indicated weird "lights", and explosions of "greenish gases".

"Why Muggles? … Why on earth are they such a target to Dark Wizards?" Despite his feelings about the Dursleys, he didn't think they would deserve, if it came to that, to be pulverised by the blast of an Unforgivable Curse.

In the sequence of events and bad news of the last two weeks, it was nevertheles Hermione's silence that weighed the most heavily on Harry's heart and mind. He had sent Hedwig almost two weeks before to Hermione, and was still awaiting a reply.

Harry was now clenching his jaw tightly, gritting his teeth. "Something must be wrong … Yeah, something is definitely wrong. I must get over there, and — "

The doorbell was ringing.

"Who could this be, at this time of the night?" Harry thought out loud as he jogged to get to the entrance hall to greet whoever would be.

Harry was disconcerted to find Dobby at the door, greeting … Luna Lovegood!

"Luna!? Hi! What — er, what brings you here at such an — odd time of the day?" Harry was trying to be polite, but was dumbfounded about Luna's visit.

Luna looked around dreamily, her eyes darting around as if looking for something — or someone. "Oh, hello Harry. I'm sorry about the time, I didn't realize … Is Ronald here? He told me I could come and see him here."

"Oh, okay! Uh, Ron is not here now. He's been gone all day, actually, and I'm not sure when he will return."

Luna looked positively disappointed. "Oh, that's too bad. I guess I'll be going then. Well, bye Harry."

"Wait! Don't you want me to give him a message or something? Should he get back to you?" Harry was so in shock still that he didn't quite know what to do.

Luna frowned for a moment, and then gave a big, sheepish grin. "Tell him that I miss him a lot!" On this, she spun around and left.

Harry looked at Dobby, and started laughing.

"Dobby always thought Miss Luna was a bit funny", the elf said, grinning as well.

Harry loved Luna, she was a good friend, and she had been a good ear for him at important times. But she remained — well, Luna! Still giggling, Harry made his way back to the kitchen, where his dilemma of before came back as he saw the newspaper and everything else on the table.

Harry had been torn for the last two weeks: on one hand, he missed Hermione so much that it would have taken nothing for him to apparate in the blink of an eye in Romania to find Hermione; on the other hand, he remained hesitant, wanting to leave her some space after their last encounter — and let her tell him how she felt.

But Dumbledore's word of caution about Hermione was haunting Harry; he couldn't help thinking she was vulnerable, and that she was sufficiently isolated to be some kind of easy target.

Harry took a deep breath. "Okay, if I have no news from Hedwig tomorrow morning, I'm apparating over there."

--------------------

Hermione had Harry's package on her lap, and was hesitant to open it.

"Oh well, let's do it!" she finally said, trembling slightly.

Her thoughts wandered to what Ron had said. Even though there was nobody in the room, she blushed furiously at the thought that Harry — Harry Potter — did, in fact, love her, and that their kiss at the airport had not been just a mistake.

She unfolded the small note that had come with the package, and read it.

_Dearest Hermione,_

_Once again, I have to apologize in writing, but I can't do it._

_I know I hurt you this time, and it's killing me. I love you so very much, I once again took out my anger on you, and you don't deserve it._

_Hermione, I can't bear the thought of losing you. You mean more to me than anything else. _

_What's in a package is a part of me. You've seen it once before. Truth is, I've really wanted you to have it all along; please accept it as my lame attempt to convince you that you mean more to me than anything else in this world._

_Please forgive me._

_Love, Harry_

Hermione was suddenly apprehensive about opening the package. What on earth had Harry sent her? She delicately unfolded the thick paper, and saw a velvety box with gold trimmings. She gasped, knowing exactly what it was — she had seen it before, when she and Harry had found the chest in the attic. Her heart racing, she delicately opened the box, and saw the necklace.

"No! Harry, you can't! You didn't! I — I'm so not worth that!" she wailed, knowing it had been destined for Harry's mum, and that he treasured this beyond anything else.

Rivers of tears came — once again — streaming down her cheeks.

"Oh, Harry! I love you so much, you stupid git!", she said softly … "I love you so much it hurts."

After a while, Hermione put the necklace on, and smiled dreamily.

She had taken out her old diaries from school just before. She started reading them, and immediately came across her first entry, the day of her first meeting. Softly playing with the necklace around her neck, she smiled.

"_I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you? …"_

"_I'm Ron Weasley," Ron muttered._

"_Harry Potter," said Harry._

"_Are you really?" said Hermione. "I know all about you, of course –— I got a few extra books for background reading, and you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."_

She had felt so stupid after she had left their compartment on the Hogwarts Express. All she had been able to do on her first encounter with Harry Potter — typical of her — had been to quote something she had read in a book.

"No wonder he thought I was a know-it-all", she whispered to herself as she petted Crookshanks, who had joined her on the sofa.

Hermione couldn't bring herself to go to bed. More and more, she knew the time had come to reveal the secret she had been harbouring for seven long years: she had to let Harry — and the world — know that she had been madly, desperately, and secretly in love with her best friend, Harry Potter.

It had started, as everything typically did with Hermione, with what she had read. Learning about the Wizarding World was fascinating, and she had bought stacks of books to better acquaint herself with her new reality. In many of them, she had come across the story of a little baby who had defeated the most powerful Dark wizard of the last hundred years, Lord Voldemort.

She had been quick to compute that he had to be a few months younger than she was herself; he had to have turned eleven years old during that summer. Perhaps he would even be entering Hogwarts this year …

Hermione had first been intrigued by the idea of Harry Potter. She was curious, but realistic. He surely wouldn't want anything to do with her — after all, she was quite ordinary, she didn't do well socially, and she came from a non-magical family line. In her mind, the baby had grown up to be a tall, handsome and dashing prince that wouldn't look twice at a girl with large teeth and messy, bushy hair.

But then, she had met him. The "prince" was small and skinny, had unmanageable hair, wore glasses, and seemed so — shy. And yet, something powerful and reassuring emanated from him, a quiet strength that seemed to radiate from his very character. Her first meeting with Harry on the Hogwarts Express had been an unexpected experience: her heart had raced and she had been suddenly so nervous that all she had been able to tell him was that she had read about him in a book!

But the more she discovered him, the more she liked him. She hadn't deliberately set out to become Harry and Ron's friend. However, her insecurities and desire to please — this was a new world for her, and she wanted to be the best she could — had landed her in trouble again. People had quickly pegged her as a teacher's pet, a know-it-all, and just like it had been in her previous schools, she had found herself alone. And when Ronald Weasley had remarked, in their first year, that she "must not have any friend", he had hit a nerve. Wounded, she had hidden in the girls bathroom, until Harry and Ron had come to rescue her from the Mountain Troll they had — she had only learned of this years later — themselves locked in with her.

And so they had become friends, and Hermione had remained quite content with that relationship. Yet, it had made her see Harry from up close, and the more she saw, the more she liked. It also dawned on her that there was a price to being Harry's friend: he was a wanted man, and his life was constantly threatened.

With shivers running down her spine, she flipped her diary and came to an entry at the end of their first year, when they had been together trying to get to Quirrell and Voldemort.

"_Well — I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harry, pointing at his scar. "I might get lucky again."_

_Hermione's lip trembled, and she suddenly dashed at Harry and threw her arms around him._

"_Hermione!"_

"_Harry — you're a great wizard, you know."_

"_I'm not as good as you," said Harry, very embarrassed, as she let go of him._

"_Me!" said Hermione. "Books! And cleverness! There are more important things — friendship and bravery and — oh Harry — be careful!"_

She read, in her diary, the line following the description of the incident:

"It's really hard to admit it, but I think I'm in love with Harry. Is that possible? He's so wonderful and brave … I'm really scared."

She had started falling for Harry at that very moment. He was no longer someone she had read about in a book, he was no longer just a stranger in a train. He was someone that was ready to risk his life for the people he cared about, and someone who could face danger despite his fear, well on his way to becoming great. And more to the point — he was the only one whom she wanted to be loved by.

And yet, Hermione had made every effort, from that point on, to hide her growing admiration and love for Harry.

First of all, Harry didn't show any interest in girls when he had entered Hogwarts, and she didn't want to risk the possibility of an eventual relationship with him before it even had a chance to start. And to her dismay, Harry's first crush had been Cho Chang, not her. Despite the fact that she was deeply upset at this, and more generally speaking, at the fact that neither Ron nor Harry seemed to "see" her as a girl who could, potentially, be attractive and an interesting partner, she had made sure she remained supportive to Harry. She suspected that his attraction to Cho was only superficial, and that eventually it would become obvious to him. Time would prove her right, of course.

Second of all, Hermione felt powerless about the fact that if she was ever to love him romantically, there would be always be the unbearable risk of losing him. This actually terrified her to the point she had recurring nightmares about it, and it had been increasingly showing in her worry and drive to make sure Harry was always as safe as he could be.

By the end of their fourth year at Hogwarts, she had become more aware of her real feelings for Harry: she had fallen intensely in love with him, but remained terrified of what it meant. For a split-second that year, she had hoped he would ask her to the Yule Ball, but knew better. Harry was still not noticing her, infatuated as he was with Cho. Furthermore, even Ron had started showing a certain jealousy towards her, a fact that had really caught her off guard. Their argument at the Yule ball had made her more upset and confused than she could ever imagine … Maybe Ron made more sense for her? Maybe she was just fantasizing about Harry, when all this while she could have a comforting, safe and more predictable relationship with Ron? That question would haunt her for the next two years, and would eventually become the motivation behind one of her biggest blunders — dating Ron.

She remembered that evening quite vividly for another particular reason, though: when she had appeared with Krum that evening on the dance floor, she had seen Harry's eyes and his astonishment; and for the first time, she knew he had noticed her — and with more than just the eyes of a friend. So there was hope, she had thought.

And Harry's feelings towards her had seemed to change the next year: all year he had been miserable, but he had also been very protective of her, she had fought at his side, and she had noticed that he seemed to value her opinion more than in the past. Despite the Cho incident — the kiss — their fifth year had been a victory for Hermione: Cho had been eliminated as a real threat, and Harry and her had grown very close. But yet, she had remained scared of what a relationship with Harry could mean, since his life constantly hung in the balance. She had been torn by this, and the next summer she had reasoned herself into trying a relationship with Ron.

"That was the worst year of my life", Hermione remembered, and her eyes became glittery again.

Not only did Hermione realise quickly that her and Ron weren't meant to be more than friends, she experienced for the first time what it meant to be somewhat cut off from Harry — she felt alone, vulnerable, and like something was missing.

"I never told him how I missed him that year", she thought …

But when they had reunited just before their last year at Hogwarts, Harry had hugged her for an extra-long time, and they had both been scared to move for a while. It seemed that Harry had missed her at least as much.

Their seventh year had been excruciatingly difficult. The Wizarding world was at war, Harry's life had been threatened many times, and he had saved her own life twice during the year. Without his protection and quick-thinking, she would not be alive to enjoy this moment.

There had been something new, however. Despite the fact that Harry had lost some softness, that he was harsh and lost his temper more often than she had been used to, she had noticed a definite change in the way he interacted with her. He was certainly more vocal about the way he felt about her: he told her he cared, he told her he loved her (as a friend), and his instincts had changed — whenever he was in close proximity, he often touched her, hugged her, and — this had been something new — he had taken to the habit of playing with her hair. This was very disconcerting, since she didn't know if he was doing it consciously or not. She enjoyed it very much, however, and longed to just let herself go and tell him how much she loved him. But at the same time, she was still terrified of losing him, and of letting herself becoming a weakness for Harry, that would have given weapons to Voldemort and his kronies to get to Harry.

And, for an instant, she had seen her worst fear become real: she had seen him dead, lifeless on the ground, for what had seemed an eternity.

Hermione tried to catch her breath, her heart racing and hurting. She started sobbing, and couldn't stop the tears as she recalled his last brush with Voldemort. The heartbreak had been insufferable, and for the first time of her life, she had thought of dying herself. If Harry was gone, what could she do?

She had been the first there, and certain he was about to die, she had told him her secret … "I can't lose you — I love you!"

To her immense relief, he had opened his eyes, and smiled.

"But now," she mused as a conclusion to her evening, "I have to tell him again. Face to face."

She was going to apparate back in London the next day. She had to go back. She couldn't spend one more minute away from Harry, and — at long last — there would be no more secrets.


	7. Casualties of War

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 7

CASUALTIES OF WAR

"I'm telling you, she's not here!" Krum's face was livid, both with anger and terror. He knew that this early on a Saturday morning, he was the only one in the building.

It was Karkaroff — a face that Krum was completely astonished to see again, after his sudden disappearance of a few years back — who had spoken first. He was accompanied by Maldemort, who was yet unknown to Krum. There was also a young man with them, that looked somewhat familiar, but Krum couldn't quite remember where he had seen him before.

"Viktor," Karkaroff spat between his teeth, "I would urge you, as your old Headmaster and friend, to listen to me very closely … This here, is Lord Maldemort — our new master. And he doesn't like people who don't comply with his demands. I strongly suggest —"

Maldemort cut him off, and with a deliberately glacial tone, continued.

"Mister Krum, my people don't lie … We know that a certain" — a look of loathing and disdain appeared on Maldemort's face as he spat the name — "Hermione Granger has started working for you last week. Now, I will not ask again. Where is she?"

Krum, a successful businessman, was not easily intimidated. But there was something so evil about this man, that he was really fearing for his life, though fighting really hard not to show it.

Maldemort pushed on with an amused smile. "Fear … It's no use trying to hide it, I can smell it in you, Krum … This is no Quidditch game, now is it? NOW … Where's the filthy Mudblood?"

"First of all, it's Saturday today, and people don't usually work on Saturday. But most importantly, she no longer works here", he finally answered, seeing that he had little choice. Krum liked Hermione very much, but he had to save his own life for now. "She handed in her resignation yesterday, said she had made a terrible mistake. What do you want with her anyway?"

Karkaroff continued. "Viktor, it would do you good not to ask too many questions … Now, surely your employee records show an address for Miss Granger?"

Indignation appeared up on Krum's face. "Those are confidential! I can't just let you have information like that!"

In a blink of the eye, Maldemort had his wand in the air and calmly pronounced the spell. "Crucio!" Krum's body fell to the floor just like a rag doll, and his face twisted into an expression of sheer agony.

"Now, mister Krum", Maldemort continued, "I am a patient man … We could stay here for a while, and see how much resistance Quidditch training gives a man. Or, we could get that address, and everybody would be happy! Either way, it's your choice …"

With great effort, Krum nodded, and the pain stopped.

"Just promise me you won't hurt her!" Krum pleaded as he painfully got up.

Maldemort snickered. "Don't worry, mister Krum. She has something we want very much. Once we get it, we will go on with our business …"

As they exited the premises with Hermione's address, Maldemort turned to Karkaroff. "Kill him, we don't need any witness."

A few minutes later, a flash of green light illuminated the otherwise dark corridors.

--------------------

Harry was happy to see Ron sitting at the breakfast when he came back from his newspaper "collecting" expedition. He had purchased ten on this Saturday morning; that was not counting, of course, the Daily Prophet, who was delivered directly to Harry's house by owl.

"Good morning mate!" he said cheerily, as Ron was wolfing down his piece of toast.

Ron was smirking, as if he knew something Harry didn't — which, of course, was the case.

"What? Do I look funny or something?"

"No, everything's fine. I'm just quite happy this morning!" Ron's looks suddenly shifted to the pile of newspaper under Harry's arm, eyes wide.

"Can you tell me what have you been doing with all these newspapers, lately? It's almost like you're looking for something bad to happen …"

Harry hesitated before he answered. The time would come soon when he would have no choice but to let Ron in on what was happening.

He resolved he would do it that very day, although not during breakfast.

"Well, I'm just making sure the world is safe again, Ron …"

Harry then remembered a fact that could help him change the subject quickly.

"Oh, by the way, you had a visitor last night!" Harry chuckled as he remembered the scene with Luna.

"Oh, really? Who was it?" Ron said between bites of his toast.

Harry looked at Ron, and with a mock-voice that he intended as dreamy as possible, he whispered, "Luna came for you …"

To Harry's bewilderment, Ron's ears instantly turned into a shade of crimson red. The color slowly started making its way down to his cheeks.

"Oh … And — and what did she … What did she say?" Ron was avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Well, er, she told me to tell you that … that she — missed — you … In fact, that she missed you, er, A LOT!?" Ron couldn't hide a childish, giddy smile, and Harry caught on right away.

"Ronald?" Harry continued sarcastically, "why would she … miss you? I know we're all close friends and all, but we saw her a couple of days ago at the airport — well, I didn't really talk to her much, but I'm sure —"

Ron replied quickly without taking his eyes off his plate. "Well, if you must know, we had — we went on a date, okay?"

Ron had said this in a low voice, seeming almost afraid to say it out loud. He was also looking left and right to make sure Dobby or some other person was there to hear it.

While listening to Ron, Harry had started laying some of the papers on his side of the table. He stopped with a start.

"A date? With Luna? You're kidding, right?" Harry had started laughing really loud, and then realized by Ron's disappointed face that he was serious.

Biting his lip, Harry quickly continued, "Er, I'm sorry Ron, it's just — I kind of never thought, you know. But seriously, Luna is very sweet, and can be very cute when she doesn't look lost in … thoughts." Harry had wanted to say "outer space", but had decided that this particular choice of words could be somewhat misinterpreted.

Obviously uncomfortable, Ron tried to offer some form of explanation. "Well, you know, I thought that at first, but we had a really good time, she's very nice, and — and — don't laugh — I'm actually kind of growing quite fond of her …"

Harry had managed to retrieve his serious tone.

"Well, Ron, if I hadn't had Luna to help me deal with the loss of Sirius, I'm not sure I'd still be 'sane'. She was great, in fact. Good for you, Ron!"

After getting coffee and a piece of toast from Dobby, Harry opened the London Times first, and scanned the cover page. Nothing, other than the fact that England's Prime Minister had handed in his resignation, one week after the scandalous revelation that he had been secretly conducting illicit affairs with no less than five women.

Harry smirked. "Uncle Vernon must be really glad about this one!" remembering his Uncle's dislike for anything that went against proper etiquette.

He flipped the second page, and after reading the three or four headlines, felt a stabbing pain in his stomach as his eyes moved across to the top of page three:

"GAS BLAST DESTROYS PROMINENT DENTISTRY CLINIC IN LONDON"

Harry had read about a lot of "gas blasts" in the last few days, and knew they were — usually — no gas explosion at all. They were just the way Muggles perceived attacks from Wizards, since the colors of the "explosions" were similar.

But it was obviously something else that troubled Harry, and made him read on; Hermione had never told him where exactly her parents practiced their professional activities. Could it only be a strange coincidence that Dark Wizards had attached a dentist's office?

Harry, now mortified, didn't think so.

"It can't be, please … There are probably hundreds of dentists in London!" Harry said out loud read on, on the verge of becoming physically ill.

Harry's worried tone of voice caught Ron's attention, and he also started reading the paper — upside down. When he managed to decipher the headline, he dashed across the table to read with Harry, and shrieked, nervously combing his red hair with his right hand.

"Blimey Harry! Could it be Hermione's parents clinic?"

Harry's face showed panic as he read out loud.

"At eleven thirty P.M. on Friday, a violent explosion" destroyed one of the most renowned dentistry clinic of the greater London area, the —" Harry gasped, and closed his eyes as a deep sadness welled within him.

He continued in a very low murmur. "— the Granger clinic ..."

Harry's heart was beating really fast now, and his legs were quickly becoming like jelly. He pressed on his reading:

"Witnesses say that a bright, greenish light preceded the explosion, a fact which leads investigators to believe that a faulty gas pipe could be the original cause of the blast. The Fire Department, called on the scene, could do very little more than control the peripheral fires that came about as a consequence of the main explosion. Sadly, the Fire Department has confirmed as of late last night that at least twenty people were killed by the explosion. The owners of the clinic, Dr. Stephen Granger and his wife, Dr. Eleanor Granger, have not yet been located and it was impossible to confirm at the time of going to press whether they were in the building at the moment of the blast."

Harry literally fell on the chair besides him, as if he had just been hit by the Hogwarts Express itself. He suddenly felt nauseous, and struggled not to retch his breakfast.

Ron was aghast, and tears were running down his cheeks. "Oh no, oh no …"

Harry suddenly got up; he had to act quickly. This was no gas explosion for sure, and if Hermione's parents had been targeted, it meant that Hermione was probably in extreme danger.

With urgency in his voice, Harry immediately turned to Ron: "Ron, I can't explain now, but I need you to get to Dumbledore as quick as you can, and show him this newspaper. I have to get to Hermione right now, she's in danger."

Bewildered, Ron tried to argue. "What? What do you mean, in danger? I —"

Harry was frantic now. "RON! THERE'S NO TIME! Just trust me, okay? I'll explain later. I HAVE to get to Hermione!"

"Okay, all right, I'm going." Ron rushed through the door.

Harry checked for his wand, and started concentrating really hard; after ten seconds or so, he disappeared from the kitchen with a loud crack.

--------------------

Hermione had been awake for a little while, but had remained on her couch. The nice blanket was warm and comfortable, and with Crookshanks purring at her side, it was almost impossible to just give up the coziness of that moment instantaneously. She had unconsciously brought her hand up, and was playing delicately with her necklace.

"Hopefully, I'm going to see Harry today", she told Crookshanks dreamily, who replied by stretching his front paws and closing his eyes in satisfaction as she pet him lovingly.

She finally got up, and decided to finish her packing. Not that there was a lot to be done, as she had stayed up quite late to prepare for her departure this morning. But there still were a few odds and ends that needed to be taken care of.

She went to the bathroom, took a shower and got dressed, before she really started putting what was remaining to be packed in her traveling handbag.

After maybe fifteen minutes, she was finished. Her trunk was packed neatly, and her handbag was stuffed and ready to go.

A television set stood in the corner of the living room, and Hermione was suddenly taken with the idea of watching the Saturday morning news bulletin, in order to see what was going on in the world. Since her arrival at Krum International, she had been completely disconnected.

She flipped the channels until she got to the BBC, and started listening to the news. After ten minutes or so, she had had enough.

"Nothing worth listening to this morning", she muttered to herself. She was about to run the dial off when a moving caption flashing at the bottom of the TV screen caught her attention. It said simply "Stay tuned for a special report on the blast in London."

Intrigued, Hermione approached the TV and sat down on the edge of the small living room table. The images switched a few seconds later to a reporter standing in front of what looked like a ravaged area of London; she could see smoke everywhere, panic-stricken people running around behind the news reporter, mixed with the eerie reflections and flashes of the emergency lights from the fire trucks and ambulances. The reporter was speaking, but she wasn't paying much attention, focused as she was on the images of the sinister damages.

Suddenly, her heart sank, and she covered her mouth with her hands in surprise: as the camera panned to show the wreckage of what seemed to be the effects of a huge explosion, she noticed what was left of a small coffee-shop, and distinctly saw "Chez Antoine" still hanging from the storefront brick wall … She gasped, and suddenly felt unable to breathe properly as the shock and anxiety of what she was seeing overtook her. She knew this café very well: every morning when she was little, she would have breakfast there with her Mum and Dad — it was right across her parents' dental clinic.

Trembling as a leaf, she turned the volume up, and listened more closely.

"Yes Nigel, it was exactly here last night, at around eleven-thirty P.M., that a devastating explosion almost instantly destroyed this building. It was well known to the residents of the London area, being one of the most reputed dental clinics in the city. It is believed, according to investigators, that some kind of gas leak was the main cause of the explosion ..."

Hermione had started crying uncontrollably, her hands grabbing at each side of her face in utter desperation. A weird, horrendous, twisting pain seemed to be constricting her chest cavity, making her heart ache and her breathing extremely difficult.

Hermione managed to get up, trying to grab a hold of herself; she started pacing nervously in front of the television set. "No, no …" she reasoned, in a small, high-pitched voice. "It was late, they had to be gone, it's not … They are safe, I know they —"

It was the news anchor that spoke next.

"Peter, for the listeners who just tuned in, can you tell us about casualties? Were there people in the building at the time of the blast?"

"Well, Nigel, information is sketchy, because there are a lot of confidentiality issues here. Unfortunately, inspectors for the Fire Department have confirmed that as much as twenty people may have still been in the building at the moment of the explosion — they are all believed to be dead. Some bodies have already been recovered, but names have not been released to the public yet. But wait —"

Someone had approached the field reporter, and was whispering in his ear.

"We have just learned, Nigel, through undisclosed sources, that both owners of the clinic, Dr. and Dr. Granger, were in fact still inside last night and are amongst the deceased …"

Hermione felt as if the floor had been violently yanked from under her feet. Her knees buckled, and she crumbled to the floor. In the blink of an eye, her entire body seemed to shut down and go numb. It was as if she could no longer feel or move, she was frozen — her brain seemed no longer able to process anything. She wanted to scream, but the air didn't seem to want to reach her lungs. Gasping for breath, trying to fight off her dizziness, she finally managed to take in a gulp of air.

A shrieking, howling sound came out of her, but she remained on the floor leaning on her hands, as if about to vomit. She wailed what seemed to be everything she had inside.

"Noooo! Not them! Not Mum and Dad! Oh, my God, I — I — I can't breathe, …"

At the same moment, a thundering cracking sound was heard from the street. Hermione looked up with a start, but couldn't even stand up to see, feeling as if her insides were dying.

The door suddenly flung open, and from the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a tall, athletic frame crowned with an untidy mess of jet-black hair running towards her, and her name being screamed out loud by a warm and familiar voice; she felt herself being wrapped around the shoulders by two wiry, muscular bare arms. Looking up, she saw her own reflection in two shiny emerald green mirrors …

"Harry …" Hermione whispered, barely audible through her tears.

Harry drew her closer, bringing her head to rest on his shoulder just below his chin.

"Oh Harry, my Mum and Dad, they're —"

As he had entered the house, Harry had seen the news report from the corner of one eye and Hermione on the floor with the other; he had immediately understood what the desolating scene he was witnessing meant.

He looked at her as she lay on his shoulder, silently crying. She was a mess … He gently bend his own head, leaning his face in her hair. She grabbed his t-shirt with her hand, and suddenly exploded in sobs and started shaking convulsively, crying with no holding back.

"Mum … Dad … Harry, they're — gone! Why, why? I — I — What did I do?" She was clutching Harry really hard, and her whole body was suffering from the blow.

Harry was now crying himself. "I — I know, I'm so sorry Hermione. I'm here now, I won't let you go. Don't worry … I'm here, you're not alone."

They remained on the floor for a long while, Hermione sobbing, and Harry tenderly holding her, silently. There was nothing to say. Yet, Harry felt that if anyone could have a hint of Hermione's sorrow, it was him.

Hermione was shaking slightly less now, and looked up at Harry, who had somehow managed to lean back against the wall, still cradling her in his arms. His eyes were of shining green, wet from the tears of sharing Hermione's pain.

Harry smiled faintly as he gazed at her face. Her eyes were red and puffy, her face flustered from all the crying, and she was still shining with tears — and yet, Harry thought, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever known. Looking at her bright brown eyes, Harry saw for the first time just how vulnerable she was. In his arms wasn't the strong, courageous and fearsome girl soon to turn nineteen. Rather, he was seeing a frightened and lonely little girl, who had just lost her parents, and who desperately wanted someone to take care of her.

Harry felt a formidable jolt in the pit of his stomach, that quickly became a fluttering sensation. Harry brushed her hair delicately, and murmured softly in her ear: "My timing is awful, as usual, but … I love you Hermione, oh, I love you so much!" Pulling back just ever slightly, he kissed her forehead.

Hermione softly laid her hand on his cheek. She looked at him through her veil of tears, and sobbed back, "Oh Harry — I love you too, I've loved you for so long. You have no idea … I am so —"

Harry put his finger on her lips, as he looked at her intensely in the eyes. His hand moved on hers, and he gently stroke her arm. He then delicately wiped her cheek, and moved forward … He kissed her lips softly as he brushed her hair back … His hand moved gently to the nape of her neck, and he kissed her again a few times, and before long the intensity of the moment took over. Both Hermione's hands were now in Harry's hair, and — if it was at all possible — seemed to be furiously trying to make it even untidier. They locked in a desperate embrace, their lips fused together as their love and repressed emotions of the last couple of weeks finally found expression.

"WELL! Would you look at that? How very touching!! Gee, Potter, why did you deny it all these years? You DID have a thing for the Mudblood!!"

Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway, holding a wand menacingly and wearing a smug smile on his face.

Harry reacted out of sheer instinct. He instantly laid down on top of Hermione, and started rolling the both of them towards the living room table, intending to use it as shield — while at the same reaching for his wand in his back pocket; before he had reached the table, his arm was already extended fully, and he shouted, "Expelliarmus!"

Draco's wand flew, and before he knew what was happening to him, a red stream of light had hit him in the forehead. He fell flat on his back, completely taken out by the hex that Harry had sent his way.

Harry looked up from behind the table, and knew he only had seconds to spare, seeing a bunch of Death eaters running towards the door.

"Can you fight, Hermione?" Harry's face was intensely concentrated, and his eyes showed so much anger and determination that for the first time, Hermione felt he was more than just a great wizard. He emanated something, at this very moment, that she had only seen before in … Dumbledore.

Harry looked sideways, only to see Hermione already kneeling in a fighting stand and her wand already in her hand. They had the same instincts, it seemed, despite the emotions or circumstances surrounding them.

"Of course I'll fight, Harry. Listen, there's a back door, maybe —"

"No, they'll have it covered. Our only hope is to get down the basement and apparate out of here. Okay, on the count of three, we start running, and we send stunning spells towards the door. One!"

Two death eaters came bursting in and streaks of fire and light started crossing the room in all directions.

"TWO!"

Harry and Hermione had a slight advantage in the fact that the coming Death eaters didn't know where they were: they were concealed behind the table, which was itself partially hidden from view until someone moved further into the house.

"THREE!" They both jumped up to their feet, remaining crouched down, and started running towards the basement stairs on the far side of the kitchen area. In almost perfect synchronization, they both sent powerful stunning spells towards the door. Harry's spell managed to stun the first Death eater, but Hermione's missed. It was that second Death eater who screamed "Crucio!" — instantly, Hermione's knees buckled and she fell down, crashing into a pile of rusted old metal cans that were intended for the trash. She started screaming and yelling, her face twisted in a horrible expression of unfathomable pain.

Harry spun around quickly and screamed, "Petrificus Totallus!" The Death eater keeled over and fell hard, as a wooden board would.

"Oh my goodness that hurt!", cried Hermione, trying to get up. Harry realized with horror that her knee was bleeding profusely: she seemed to have cut herself badly on one of the cans.

Then — out of nowhere — Harry felt something new. It was like a warning bell had gone off inside his head, and all he could hear was "GET DOWN!" Immediately, Harry plunged towards Hermione, and half a second later, he heard it.

"Adava Kedavra!" — the flash of green light just missed his head, and he knew there would be no second miss. Energized by a sudden jolt of strength, he extended his arm back, gave a quick look to aim and shouted, "Adava Kedavra!"

To Hermione's horror, the jet of green light took off from Harry's own wand this time, and hit a tall silhouette at the entrance of the kitchen right in the middle of the chest. Another Death eater had entered, but his slightly pulled down hood showed that he still smiling when his body started falling to the ground. The whole exchange had taken less than one second.

They didn't have time to dwell on what had just happened. Harry got to his feet, and lifted up Hermione. Her leg was now covered in blood, and she could barely walk. They could hear more footsteps and angry screams coming from outside. Harry just lifted Hermione in his arms, and flew down the flight of stairs more than went down it.

They huddled in a corner, and caught a breath or two before Harry started talking again.

"Okay, we have to apparate" said Harry, panting, "concentrate on Grimmaud Place, quick!"

There was a deafening cracking sound, and everything went black for a moment.

Harry opened his eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief as he saw the familiar surrounding of the kitchen of his house.

"Harry! Are you okay? Are you hurt?" Ron and Ginny screamed and rushed to Harry's side, both their face horrified at the amount of blood on his clothes.

"Gosh, that was way too darn close, Hermione!" Harry said turning around to look at Hermione.

He gasped and shrieked in horror.

Hermione was not there.


	8. Refuge in Godric's Hollow

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 8

REFUGE IN GODRIC'S HOLLOW

Hermione opened her eyes, and let out a piercing shriek, shocked — she was still in the basement of her house in Romania! She looked around frantically and her already fragile heart missed a beat when she didn't see Harry anywhere. Something had gone very wrong with her apparating! Trying to move, she felt as if a huge cerated knife was permanently lodged in her knee, and winced in pain — this had to be more than a cut. Her whole leg was excrutiatingly painful, and covered in blood. She tried to concentrate again on Grimmaud Place, but she was suffering way too much. Her emotions were in a whirlwind also, another factor that had possibly contributed to her inability to apparate, she reasoned.

"I have to get up, I have to move!" Hermione said to herself. She could distinctly hear more footsteps and noises upstairs, and knew that Death Eaters would get to her soon enough.

The door on top of the stairs was suddenly flung open. To Hermione's horror, she recognized Draco Malfoy. Halfway down the steps, he caught a glimpse of her huddling in the far corner. A sadistic, cruel smirk immediately formed on his face.

"Where's your _boyfriend_, Granger? He left you? You weren't up to his standards? I guess he finally decided a Mudblood wasn't good enough for him!" he said laughing, and immediately followed with a shout, "Expelliarmus!"

Slowed down by the pain in her leg, Hermione's reaction wasn't nearly quick enough: her wand flew out of her hand, out of reach.

She gritted her teeth, ready to fight with bare hands if she had to, and looked at Malfoy with seething anger. "Shut up already, Malfoy! You're a worm compared to Harry … You never were anything more!" She started hoping Harry would appear now — surely, he would apparate back to come and get her.

Draco's smile vanished. "You're in no position to talk like that, Granger …" He was coming down the stairs slowly, waving his wand dangerously in front of him.

Hermione desperately attempted to get up. She managed to hoist herself on her good leg, but couldn't even bend the other one. All of the sudden, she felt dizzy, and had to grab the wall to remain standing. There was a lot of blood on the floor, and for the first time, she feared she could die if that wound wasn't tended to. Little stars were flashing in front of her eyes, and for a moment she thought she would faint. She also saw that more Death eaters were coming down the stairs. She counted five in all.

"LEAVE HER TO ME! I want to have … a little fun!"

"We are to take her to our Master alive, Draco — DON'T forget that!" hissed one of the Death Eaters between his teeth, obviously disgusted at this display of childishness.

Ignoring him, Draco made three steps towards her, and yanked her by the hair as she tried to hop away from him on one leg.

"Finally! I've been wanting to grab that dirty mane for years! It's surprisingly soft though, I would have thought otherwise …"

Hermione screamed. "Ouch! You disgusting animal! What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hermione spun around and punched him on the face with all her might, but unfortunately he didn't let go.

A surge of rage and disgust, however, suddenly took over Draco's face, as he felt his upper lip — now bleeding — with his finger. "You filthy Mudblood, wait til you get what you deserve!!"

Still holding Hermione with a solid grip in her hair, Draco deliberately tucked his wand back in his belt, and without warning, with the palm of his open hand, pelted her face with all his might.

Hermione let out a muffled scream, convinced her head had just exploded; yet, the pain became even more intense a split-second later: her head had jerked sideways with the force of the blow, but was violently and forcefully pulled back by Draco — who still had a firm hold on a large chunk of her hair. Before she could think of anything else, the hand came back in the opposite direction, smashing her cheekbone on the other side of her face. This time, she felt a horrible burning sensation in her cheek as well, and a warm trickle of blood going down the side of her nose. A few more blows followed, as Draco seemed to be in some kind of incontrolable fury.

Hermione had never been hit before, and thought she was going to die. Blinded, barely conscious, her whole face throbbing in pain, she braced herself for the next blow. When it didn't come, she attempted to open her eyes; she was swelling and her vision was blurry, but she still caught a sight of Draco, his face gleeful with sadistic pleasure at beating her up. He had finally let go of her hair, and was routinely wiping and adjusting a huge metal ring on his finger.

Hermione, bloodied and on the verge of collapsing, still managed to remain standing and whisper defiantly, "I guess you're a big man now, hey? Beating up an unarmed, injured, defenseless girl?"

"SHUT UP, MUDBLOOD!" It seemed that Draco's suppressed rage of all his years at Hogwarts were coming out all at once. "I'll show you a real man, Granger! This is what you should be looking for in your choice of lovers!"

He leaned forcefully against her, sliding one hand behind her neck and closing it like a claw, and jerked her body against his with the other. His face was so close now she could smell his breath on her face. He physically forced her to look at him as she tried to turn away.

"What's the matter, Granger? Afraid Potter won't pass the test after this?"

His lips were almost touching hers now, and — as disgusting as it was — Hermione realized that he was about to kiss her. She felt somewhat nauseous.

She murmured, barely strong enough to shake her head and try to avoid his mouth, "You're so — disgusting, don't you dare — you're such a low life, eurk!"

A flash went through Hermione's mind as Draco's lips started touching hers: he no longer had his wand in hand! Hermione mustered everything she had left, and shot her injured knee up his groin. She nearly fainted from the pain: it was as if someone had just hammered a huge nail in her knee.

But it worked nevertheless: taken by surprise, Draco immediately backed away and fell on the floor bent in half, winded, groaning deeply and trying to catch his breath. Hermione looked around, but despite her impaired vision she saw that there was no hope, as the Death eaters were now coming closer and drawing their wands to put an end to this charade.

She was backed against the wall, with nowhere to go.

"Harry, oh Harry, where are you?" she cried between her gritted teeth, sensing ominously that death was probably next. She closed her eyes, convinced the end had come. She forced herself to summon the mental picture of two bright, loving, emerald green eyes: it would be the last thing she would think about before snuffing it.

But unexpectedly, a blinding light filled the room, and a red and gold bird appeared in mid-air, hovering around and — apparently — setting the room in some kind of gold and silver fire. Two people appeared at the top of the stairs, and hexes started flying everywhere around the room.

An eerie silence soon fell upon the musty basement. When Hermione opened her eyes again, she saw with an overpowering wave of relief the familiar face of her old Headmaster coming towards her.

He still looked towering and menacing, but nevertheless managed to smile at her softly. "Well, Miss Granger, for once it isn't Harry Potter that is in need of my assistance …"

Dumbledore, seeing she was struggling to stay up, quickly put one arm around her shoulders.

Overcome and exhausted by pain, grief, the conflicting emotions of the day and this last ordeal, all Hermione managed to get out was a feeble "Thank you!" before she went limp and collapsed, losing consciousness. The Headmaster swiftly put his other arm gently under her legs, and lifted her up with surprisingly no effort, given his apparent age.

Dumbledore turned around, and looked where Remus Lupin was standing quietly, his wand still glittering with sparks.

"Come on, Remus, let's take her home. I'd say she's been through enough for one day, wouldn't you agree?"

Lupin didn't say anything, but nodded, as a silent tear escaped the corner of his eye and slowly trickled down his cheek.

--------------------

"Harry? Weren't you going go get Hermione? Where is she? Oh no — don't tell me you didn't get to her in time?"

Ginny had spoken, but both her and Ron looked horrified.

Harry got up in a state of panic. His throat was numb, and he felt a wave of despair coming over him.

"I must go back, I must go back for her. We were in her house, fighting Death Eaters, but we apparated together — she should be here!!"

Harry looked at Ron, desperate. "Didn't you go to Dumbledore, like I told you?"

Ron got up to stand with Harry. "Yes mate, he told us to come back here, that he was taking the matter into his own hands. And —"

Ron looked at Harry with deep concern, shifting uncomfortably.

"What? WHAT?" Harry was going crazy.

"You can't go back, Harry! Dumbledore told us that whatever happened, if only one of you two made it back, we were to keep whoever it was … here."

Ron quickly drew his wand, and pronounced a binding spell. Harry was immediately tied down by the hundreds of tiny ropes shooting out of Ron's wand.

"Ron? RON! What are you doing? I HAVE to go back, you don't understand! They're going to KILL her!"

Ginny spoke next. "That is exactly why Dumbledore told us to keep you here at all costs — he was going to meet you guys, didn't you see him? Anyway, Hermione is a great witch, she can defend herself until they get there!"

Harry was furious, and trying with all his might to undo the ropes stopping him from rescuing Hermione — the love of his life, he knew it now — from a bunch of blood-thirsty Death Eaters. But the more he struggled, the tighter the ropes became — he had a hard time breathing by now.

"You don't understand, she's INJURED! She can't move, where do you think I got all this blood? Come on, now, don't be a couple of morons and get me out of these ropes!"

From the corner of his eyes, Harry caught a glimpse of Luna sitting terrified in the corner of the room with Neville. He hadn't noticed them before. They both seemed too afraid to say anything.

"Luna, come on, talk some sense into him — they have to let me go back, Hermione's life is hanging in the balance!!"

But Luna looked at Ron, who shook his head vehemently; she said nothing, and hid her face — on which there was nothing dreamy now — between her hands.

Disheartened, Harry turned back to Ron. "Come on Ron! Since when do we follow rules in a situation like this? You had no problem breaking them in school? What's the matter?"

Understanding the real underlying urgency, Ginny went beside Harry, and forced him to sit down on a chair. She gave him a big hug, and looked at him straight in the eyes : "She's going to be okay, Harry. Dumbledore and Lupin apparated right away to Romania after Ron told them, they had to be seconds behind you guys."

Harry took in a deep breath, and looked at Ginny imploringly. "You don't understand, Ginny. We talked today, we … made up. She's more to me now, she's … I love her, she loves me, I can't lose her. I must —"

Ginny gazed at him compassionately, and said calmly, "I know Harry! You'll see her soon …"

Harry couldn't speak anymore, and collapsed on his chair, sobbing deeply. Ginny leaned against him, holding him. There was something extremely powerful about the wave of emotions going through Harry at this very moment. Ginny felt awestruck, and was surprised to find herself envious — for just a moment — of Hermione for being the object of such passionate, unaldurated love.

A melodious, high-pitched song suddenly became audible, and Dumbledore's phoenix, Fawkes, appeared in mid-air and landed on Harry's shoulder. An overwhelming wave of relief washed through Harry, who quickly looked around, searching for the familiar wave of brown, bushy hair.

Dumbledore had entered the room with Remus Lupin, but there was — still — no sign of Hermione.

Harry gasped when he saw Dumbledore's dark green robe stained with blood. "Oh, no! You were too late! Where is she? Did they — hurt her?"

The Headmaster smiled at Harry, and spoke softly. "Miss Granger is safe, for now. She is at the hospital wing of Hogwarts, where she will have to stay for the time being. Her injuries are extensive, I'm afraid. Harry? A word, please?"

Harry, finally free from the ropes — Ron had made them vanish when Dumbledore had arrived — followed the Headmaster in the living room adjacent to the kitchen.

He looked at Harry with great concern in his eyes. "Harry, before you go and blame yourself, I want you to remember that you undoubtedly saved Miss Granger's life today. Now, I will take you straight to her in a few moments, but there is something you must know first."

Harry's heart sank — what on earth had happened to her?

"What is it?"

"I'm afraid Hermione is in extreme danger; it makes no doubt that she is being targeted by Dark Wizards. This new 'Dark Lord' has shown he will stop at nothing to get to her …"

He paused, and continued with a grave tone. "You saw what he did to her parents …"

Dumbledore appeared somewhat disturbed, but resumed his train of thoughts.

"She will need to be protected, but —" Dumbledore paused, aware that what he was about to say would be difficult to hear.

Harry looked at him quizzically. He was still wondering why this 'new' Dark Lord was targeting Hermione, and not him.

Dumbledore continued, "But — it can no longer be by you, Harry — by JUST you, I mean, no matter how much you're going to insist on it. I must now involve the Order, and myself personally, in her protection … It's the only way to keep her safe for the time being."

"Well, I have — no … problem with that …" Harry replied, not sure at what Dumbledore seemed to be getting at.

The old Headmaster sighed. "Well, Harry, you must realize what it means: first of all, I need her to be — for a while, at least — constantly under some kind of surveillance, by you AND someone else … And this might be difficult for you in the light of the new 'nature' of your relationship with her …"

Undoubtedly, one couldn't hide anything from Dumbledore, Harry thought.

His heart went numb. It meant that they wouldn't be alone for a while, even if they seemed to be. There were so many things — private, intimate things — they needed to talk about, but to do it with people around?

"Well, if it's to keep her safe, I'm all for it!" Harry said, with resignation.

"Second of all", Dumbledore replied, "it means you will have to leave Twelve, Grimmaud Place … I suspect that it has been compromised, given Hermione's failure to apparate there."

Dumbledore continued. "I'm afraid I have to ask you to do something difficult: revisit a deep wound of your past for a while. The safest place for Hermione right now — and you, for that matter — is a place rich in connections, in connections of unconditional love — and the best place for that, in my opinion, is in your parent's old house in Godric's Hollow, because of the bond between you and your mother, and the new one between you and Miss Granger."

Harry had not expected this. He tried to catch his breath for a moment, thinking fast.

"But Professor … Aren't I supposed to start teaching in a week? And what about —"

Dumbledore waved Harry to silence with his hand.

"You will make appearances at Hogwarts to teach your classes, along with Miss Granger — yes, we have managed to make room for her on the teaching staff — but I want you to both spend the last week of the summer in Godric's Hollow, and as much time as possible thereafter. We will see how things develop from then on.

Harry was kind of puzzled at this, but couldn't say much.

"And Harry? One last thing … Do not let Miss Granger take off that necklace — ever. It could very well save her life one day."

Harry was speechless. Once more, he felt Albus Dumbledore was many steps ahead of him. He had the distinct impression that his Headmaster had not at all been taken by surprise by all by the events that were just now unfolding.

--------------------

Hermione was breathing softly, looking very peaceful despite her ghastly appearance. The moonlight coming from the tall window in the far corner illuminated her face, and gave her a milky white color, momentarily taking away the darkness of her bruises. Harry was lying on the bed beside her, watching her as she lay sleeping, holding his head up with his elbow, gently caressing her hair with his free hand.

Harry checked his watch: it was 3 AM. She had been sleeping since the morning before, when Dumbledore had brought her from Romania. Even though he was exhausted, Harry's mind was reeling, and he hadn't been able to sleep all night. He had stayed at her side the whole time, going over and over what had happened. Weary, he laid down his head just above hers on the pillow, and buried his face in her hair, slightly wetting it as he cried silently, his heart broken at the sight of Hermione and the thought of what she had been through. The bruises on Hermione's face were horrible: her eyes were so puffy they probably could barely open, and she had a huge bloody gash across her right cheek, stretching from the tip of her ear to the side of her nose. Most of her face was swollen and discolored to a purple, blueish shade.

Anger was mounting in Harry. Who had done this to her, and why? She looked like she had been purposely beaten up physically, instead of being hit with a spell or some kind of hex. Her leg was held temporarily in a makeshift cast to stop her knee from moving. When she had fallen on the pile of trash, a shard of metal from one of the cans had lodged itself right under her knee cap, severing ligaments and many blood vessels; she had been lucky — a few minutes more could have meant death due to loss of blood.

And despite what Albus Dumbledore had told him, he felt responsible: he should have made sure she could apparate with him, he shouldn't have assumed she would follow.

Harry knew, of course, that her bruises would most probably start to heal as soon as Mrs. Pomfrey could start working on her. She had to regain some strength first, though, and she had been given a sleeping draught to make sure she wouldn't wake up before her body had completely recuperated. She stirred in her sleep, wimpering softly, and muttering words that Harry couldn't understand. She tilted her head slightly towards Harry.

"Harry, is that you?" she whispered softly, with a hint of panic in her voice.

"Yes, Hermione, it's me. You're safe now."

She moved, but winced and started crying. "Oh, my God! I — I'm in so much pain, Harry … Please hold me, okay?"

Harry drew closer, and tenderly put his arm around her, carefully trying to avoid her face which seemed to be extremely fragile.

He felt her shivering, and realized she was crying. He kissed her head softly, and held her a bit tighter. She grabbed his hand, and clutched it tight, holding it close to her face. She kissed his hand, despite the bruising on her lips.

"I love you," she wimpered, obviously in agonising pain.

Harry's heart jumped. He still wasn't used to the shift in their relationship, and to hear Hermione say this felt so wonderful.

He found her ear through her hair. He kissed it softly, and whispered back, "I love you too … I — You were very brave yesterday. You need to rest now."

"Don't leave, stay with me, okay? Don't … Don't let me go!" There was such fear in her voice as she said those words that it dawned on Harry just how traumatic their separation of the morning before had been.

"I'm not moving, Hermy, I'll be right here when you wake up, okay? I promise …"

Hermione didn't reply. She had fallen back asleep, and Harry, after a while, fell himself into a deep, restful sleep.

--------------------

The house in Godric's Hollow showed it hadn't been used in years. It was dusty, the windows had been boarded up, and the grass and other greenery ornating the lawn was at least chest high. The white picket fence surrounding it had fallen into disrepair, and was in bad need of a paint job and of a few new pickets here and there.

The house belonged to Harry, of course, but he had never visited it. In fact, the very thought of coming back here had never even crossed his mind. The emotions he felt, however, told him that this place was special. There was something in the air, a kind of aura, that gave Harry a sense of utmost security.

Dumbledore had called up a meeting of the Order of the Phoenix in Godric's Hollow for the Monday night following Hermione's escape from Romania. He had also invited Ron and Ginny, as well as Neville and Luna to join in the meeting. Of course, Harry and Hermione were already there, having used the same Portkey to get to the house during the afternoon.

They were all sitting in the living room now: Ron was sitting on a comfortable, squash leather chair, Ginny was curled up on the two-seater besides Neville, and Luna had taken to squatting on the thick rug on the floor, leaning not so discretely against Ron's legs. Harry was sitting on a large sofa with Hermione, who despite great improvement still bore the ghastly traces of her encounter of the weekend — her face was still very puffy and discoloured, and she was still wearing a brace on her leg to make sure her knee didn't move too much. She was lying down on the sofa, her head resting on a large pillow propped on Harry's lap. Harry was absent-mindedly caressing her hair with one hand, while holding her hand with the other. There were giggles and looks of approval around the room as they all waited for Dumbledore and other members of the Order to arrive.

Harry came out of his reverie, and suddenly noticed the smiles and smirks. "What? What's the matter?"

Ginny burst in laughter. "Well, Harry, it's just that — we're SO not used to this, it's going to take a while!" She pointed at his and Hermione's hand together.

Harry blushed, and fumbled his words. "Er, does it — bother you? I — I didn't realize I was doing that ..."

Hermione just smiled dreamily. But despite her happiness of the moment, the redness of her eyes showed she had been crying. She was only beginning to fathom the death of her parents.

She nevertheless broke the silence that had ensued. "Well, guys, this is — this has been long in the making, and —"

She turned her head up to smile at Harry, who returned her gaze, beaming.

"And it's just so — it's so wonderful!" she finished, tucking her face into Harry's chest. Harry bent down and kissed her shyly, still apprehensive of his friend's reaction.

There was a spontaneous round of applause.

"Seriously, it's about time! I don't think we could have taken a lot more of you two dancing around the obvious!" Ginny blurted, a wide smile across her cute, freckly face.

"Good evening, all of you!"

Dumbledore had entered the living room, with Remus Lupin and Mad-Eye Moody at his side.

Dumbledore immediately sat down on a large chair, and opened the meeting on a very deferential tone.

"We have very serious matters to discuss tonight, so I will not waste any time. There are quite a few people that couldn't attend this meeting because they were on duty for the Order. We have summoned only those who actually need to be here tonight."

Dumbledore continued, as if pressed for time. "Our first order of business is to officially receive new members into the Order. As of this evening, Ron and Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood are official members of the Order. I have, of course, obtained their consent on a personal basis before doing it officially tonight. Does anyone object to these appointments?"

Dumbledore looked around, and saw smiles of pride all around. Mad-Eye's magical eye was spinning quickly in all directions, apparently making sure everyone was sincere.

"Of course, there is no need to welcome Harry Potter and Hermione Granger, since they have been members 'by exception' for the last year, due to their exceptional contributions during the last conflict …"

There were nods of approval, and those present turned to Hermione, giving her compassionate looks.

"Excellent! We now need to talk about the new threat that is upon us." Dumbledore had gotten up from his chair and was pacing the living room, his eyes shining and showing a new level of intensity.

"A new Dark Lord has risen from the ashes of Voldemort. I have good reasons to suspect he is no other than our old friend, Lucius Malfoy. However, he seems to have acquired new powers — powers that used to be Voldemort's …"

There were murmurs of shock across the room. Everybody looked at each other quizzically, wondering how that was possible.

"Yes, I can sense the question everyone is dying to ask … Well, there is an old, black magic curse, called the Heritage curse, that allows one to — 'live on', shall we say — through another. It has its advantages — the main one being that all memories, powers and personality traits are transferred into the recipient …"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "But, it has disadvantages, I take it?"

Dumbledore smiled faintly. "Yes, although I doubt very much that Voldemort shared that information with our unfortunate Malfoy. The downside of it, mainly, is that the human brain — even a wizard's — must be 'short circuited', in a sense, to accommodate for the new information. It is often more than the recipient can take, and many do not even survive the curse. For those who do, there is a price to pay: their life expectancy is often dramatically cut short, sometimes by as much as half! So Malfoy could have as little as five or six years left before he is forced to transmit Voldemort's knowledge to someone else."

Ron smirked triumphantly. "I always knew the Malfoys were stupid gits!"

Dumbledore looked at Ron with a reproachful look.

"The worst mistake in war, Mr. Weasley, is to underestimate the enemy! He could know about this already, and be planning to prepare his son, Draco, to take over. And then, we would have to deal with him for a much longer time."

Hermione jumped at the name of Draco being pronounced. Harry, who still had no idea who had attacked Hermione, put his hand on hers to soothe her. She clutched it nervously, and Harry could swear he had heard her utter a very faint wimper.

But Dumbledore was not finished. "Now, Lucius Malfoy has taken on a new 'identity', of sorts. He now calls himself … 'Mal-de-Mort' …"

Again, Ron laughed. "Isn't that incredibly cheesy? I mean — Malfoy plus Voldemort, equals Maldemort? He could have been more original, no?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, and spoke with authority for the first time.

"Ron, did you never pay attention in French class when you were young? 'Voldemort' is French for 'Flight of Death'. Now, 'Maldemort' is French also, you could translate it as 'Plague of Death' … Which would imply, I think, that this new 'Lord' is even more evil and destructive …"

"Well I'm sorry — 'My parents don't take me to Paris every year for vacations, and —"

"RON!" Ginny blurted, looking at him scathingly for his obvious lack of sensitivity.

Hermione's mouth opened, but she didn't have the strengh to berate Ron; tears just started streaming down her face. She hid, again, in Harry's chest, and she grabbed his sweater with her free arm. As she shook with violent sobs for a while, nobody said anything. Her muffled screams of despair were almost unbearable.

Befuddled, Ron whispered, "I'm sorry, Hermione, I didn't mean …" He stopped short, seeing that any apology was useless.

After a few minutes, Hermione's tears relented. Dumbledore spoke again.

"Yes … What Miss Granger said is quite correct: a 'plague' is indeed upon us. The terrible, unfortunate attacks on her parents — and on scores of Muggles in general — show they will stop at nothing to achieve their goal, which remains unclear at this time. However, one part of their plan seems to include targeting Miss Granger. I am researching this further, and will share my findings at our next meeting. In the meantime, I want Harry and Hermione to remain here, and each and everyone of you to continue your daily activities. I will assign you with specific tasks when the time is convenient …"

Mad-eye spoke, with surprising softness in his voice. "Dumbledore, I think that out of respect for Miss Granger's grief, we should conclude the meeting now."

Dumbledore agreed. "Indeed, I believe the time has come to leave these two alone …"

Slowly rising, everyone bid Harry and Hermione goodbye, and gathered around a tea pot on the kitchen table — the Portkey that Dumbledore had used for transportation — and an instant later, they had left.

--------------------

Harry came back and sat back down besides Hermione, who was no longer lying down. She had laid her leg on the small table in front of the sofa, and seemed lost in her grief. It was, however, the first time they were alone together since they had fought in Romania.

Harry remained silent for a while. All of the sudden, he wasn't sure quite what to say.

Hermione didn't seem in the talking mood either. After Harry sat, she just leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Oh, Harry, what is happening to me? My parents are dead — and — and … look at me, I'm a mess … I'm in pain, I'm hideously disfigured, I can't walk properly …"

Suddenly, she hid her face with both her hands, and blushed furiously.

"Do you still love me Harry?"

Harry gasped. "Of course, Hermione! Why would you think otherwise?" He immediately put his arm around her, and held her silently for a while.

She finally whispered, with a desperate voice, "Look at me!"

Harry looked at her, and then kissed her slowly, cupping her fragile face softly with his hands. He felt a rush of extreme happiness as he finally pulled back. He looked at her straight in the eyes, and spoke gently.

"Hermy, these are just bruises … They haven't changed anything, you're still … The love of my life, and you will always be. I'm just sorry it took so long for me to see it."

This seemed to cheer Hermione up, bringing a faint smile to her face. "I love it when you call me that, Harry! It's definitely better coming from you than Grawp!

They both laughed at the thought of Hagrid's half-brother and giant, who still lived in the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts. He had been the first to call her "Hermy".

Gloom suddenly appeared on Hermione's face, as if she had just remembered something painful.

"Harry!? When we were back at the house … You — you killed someone!"

Harry had not forgotten, but had hoped she wouldn't bring it up. It had been bothering him somewhat, but it had been — after all — necessary.

"Hermione, it's … It wasn't the first time. I've killed in battle before, during our sixth year, when you and Ron were, you know … 'together' … I never talked to you about it then …" He paused before continuing, seeing that Hermione was clearly uncomfortable.

Hermione was now avoiding Harry's gaze.

"Dumbledore explained to me that when we are at war, rules of war apply. Rules of engagement, of sorts. When the enemy attacks, one is allowed to defend himself and the cause for which he is fighting. This applies to life-threatening hexes or curses — I had no choice, Hermione! The Death Eater nearly missed me with the Death curse, it was him or me — or worse: you."

Hermione looked at him, aghast. "Harry, I'm so scared! I … I don't want to lose you, not now!"

Harry's throat suddenly clenched. "Hermy, I — I thought I lost you the other day, and I couldn't bear the thought of it. I'm — I'm terrified too, now. But we can't just give in!"

Hermione snuggled up closer, wincing as she moved her leg, and leaned on his chest. Harry gently stroke the outline of her jaw, ending at her lips, with his free hand.

"Does it still hurt a lot?"

Hermione gave him a conniving, voluptuous grin. "Not when you touch me like that, it doesn't!"

Harry felt a rush of warmth and emotion overpower him. He started kissing her passionately, and she gave in, wrapping her arms around his neck. For a while, there was nothing else that mattered in the whole world for either of them.

"Harry?" Hermione whispered, after what seemed an eternity. "Did you … miss me, when I was with … Ron? I mean, that whole year, we barely talked. I know it almost killed me, being away from you like that … That was such a mistake!"

Harry smiled. "Well, I think it was the beginning of … this, to tell you the truth! Being away from you made me realize how much you meant to me. When I saw you at the end of the summer of our sixth year, my heart nearly stopped. I never thought I'd miss someone so much, but there you were: bushy hair, rosy cheeks, and especially, those shiny brown eyes, and that smile. And — you weren't holding Ron's hand. Somehow, it made me feel good to see that."

"Well, you nearly killed me with that hug, that's for sure!" Hermione grinned.

"I missed you horribly, to answer your question … That whole year, I felt really alone, abandoned even."

This made Harry think of a more recent event. He looked at Hermione with a stern, guilty look on his face.

"Hermy? I'm — I'm so sorry I left you down there last Saturday … I assumed you were following me, I should not have left you alone …"

Hermione shuddered. "It's not your fault, Harry, I couldn't apparate! How stupid is that?"

Harry gave her a reproachful look. "You heard what Dumbledore said, the house has been compromised!"

"Well, you were able to apparate!"

Harry paused. "Yes, but I live at Grimmaud Place, and I was perhaps — more focused — at that moment … Maybe I was just lucky."

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she thought of that day, and of her parents.

"Why me, Harry? Why Mum and Dad? They never did anything, except … love me! Oh, I miss them so much, Harry! Why is this Maldemort after me? Why does Draco hate me so much?"

Harry's anger suddenly rose. "What did you say? Why would you think —"

And suddenly, understanding struck him in the stomach like a ton of bricks.

"Hermione?!? Did … Did Draco Malfoy do this to you?"

Hermione looked at Harry imploringly, and just melted into tears. "Yes! He wouldn't stop hitting me, I thought my head was going to explode, and I thought he would kill me. And then! Harry, he tried to force me to … kiss him, but I —"

Harry was seething with rage now. "He did WHAT?"

Hermione was wailing. "Why, Harry? Why would he be so … cruel to me?"

Harry couldn't answer. He was fuming, and had never felt such fury.

He looked again at Hermione, burning in his mind the image of the bruises on her face. He pulled her towards him, and hugged her for a long, long time. She didn't move, and neither did he … Each moment, it seemed, was so precious, that they both didn't want any of them to end.

But he muttered under his breath, low enough that Hermione didn't hear him.

"Malfoy, your time will come. You WILL pay for this …"


	9. The Dark Side of Harry Potter

HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATH OF THE OLD RULE

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

CHAPTER 9

THE DARK SIDE OF HARRY POTTER

"CRUCIO!"

Draco Malfoy started writhing in pain, screaming and desperately fighting to remain conscious. His Master was pacing around the center of the cave nervously, and his face showed he was in a blinding fury.

"How could you let her escape? We had her!!" spat Maldemort, white with rage. Behind him stood a dozen Death Eaters, including the ones who had witnessed the scene between Draco and Hermione.

Draco's face twisted as he volunteered an excuse. "I just wanted to make her suffer a little, Master! I — I — I wanted revenge! From her and her friends, W — Weasley and P — Potter!"

Maldemort was hysterical. "FOOL! You stupid fool! If you had just taken her, and followed the orders, she would be here now! And we could be moving to the next phase of our plan! But instead, we are back to square one! What is even WORSE, you have awoken the suspicions not only of the dreaded members of that foul Order of the Phoenix, but of Potter as well! They will make sure they protect the Mudblood now! It will be almost impossible to get to her! AND … THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" Maldemort's wand was still raised, and the curse was taking its toll on Malfoy. Some blood was now oozing from the corner of his mouth. But Maldemort didn't care. He tightened his grip, and tilted the wand forward cruelly.

"AARGH!!" Draco screamed, his body twisting backward as if the wand was trying to break his back.

Arched in a ridiculous posture, Draco managed to muster enough strength to talk. "Master, please! Please forgive me, I will not fail you again …"

"NO! A punishment is required this time! Your actions have severely hindered our efforts to capture the Granger Mudblood! Let's see … Oh, yes! The Incendiarus curse should teach you a lesson!" Maldemort's mouth transformed into a sadistic smile; he ended the Cruciatus curse, and slowly backed up a few steps … Then, he raised his wand high above his head and threw his arm forward as if cracking a whip. At the same time, he hissed the spell between his lips, with disdain on his face.

"Incendio!"

A yellowish orange wave of light came out of the wand, looking like an irregular strand of raging fire. The tongue of fire headed directly towards Draco, and slowly wrapped itself around his right hand. Settling around it, the tip of the flames suddenly morphed into a ball of fire, engulfing his entire hand and wrist. Draco raised his arm in horror, his face twisted in a pitiful expression of shock and pain, his mouth opened wide and yet unable to speak even the faintest of sounds. He tried, desperately, to shake off the flames now eating at his fingers. It was a ghastly sight: the strand of fire was connected between Maldemort's wand and his own hand — distinctly visible inside the ball of fire — in a strange arch of blazing flame. Or, more precisely, what was left of his hand … Indeed, the flesh of his fingers was starting to liquify, and thick, oozing drops of melting skin and muscle started streaming down his wrist, somewhat evoking of lava coming down the sides of an erupting volcano. Slowly, some drops began falling on the floor where he was still laying. Blood gushed out as the vessels were litteraly being burned open, only to quickly vaporize as it met the heat of the flames.

After a few minutes, bones started appearing through the strands of melting flesh, and Draco finally managed a way to express the pain … He screamed and yelled in agony, pulling mightily at his arm to try to wrench his hand away from the hold of the spell — but to no avail. There was almost no flesh covering his hand now, as if it had been replaced at the wrist by a bony, charred, squeletal hand. Draco's face was wet with tears as he continued tearing the room with horrible shrieks of pain, still clutching his arm. The bones finally caught fire and disappeared in smoke. Draco passed out, shaking on the floor like a ragdoll with convulsions.

Maldemort, after a few seconds or so, flicked his wand upward. The beam of fire instantly disappeared … He approached Draco's limp, unconscious body, and kicked it rather violently to the side, turning the body over. One could still see the expression of agony on Draco's face, but especially, one could not fail to notice that his remaining hand was still gripping his right forearm. But where the hand should have been, only a smoky, smouldering stump remained, crowned all around the tip with horrendous looking half-melted pieces of flesh, reminiscent of the solidified drops of wax remaining around the top edge of a recently extinguished candle.

Maldemort, still enraged, turned towards the Death Eaters; none of them would have dared utter a single word.

"THIS", he said, "is the price for not following Lord Maldemort's orders! I hope this serves each one of you a lesson! I will NOT be disobeyed!"

--------------------

Harry woke up with a start, a white hot pain searing in his scar. He closed his eyes, and attempted to gauge why the pain in his scar had suddenly flared up.

"Legilimens", he muttered under his breath … He concentrated extremely hard: Legilimency was very difficult to start with, and even harder when you couldn't look directly into your subject's eyes.

Harry had finally mastered Occlumency during his sixth year, and always made sure to close his mind whenever he felt there might be a threat of a mental intrusion. But he had also started to practice Legilimency during his sixth year, a much more difficult skill that Dumbledore had started teaching him. He had used sporadically during his last year at Hogwarts, and even if he didn't master it perfectly yet, it had been very helpful. He had found himself able to glimpse the mind of Voldemort, especially when his scar erupted in pain — indicating a strong emotion being felt by Voldemort. Even though the channel between them usually closed quite rapidly, he had been able on some occasion to peer into the Dark Lord's mind, getting a few insights that had proven to be life-saving.

He immediately felt intense anger, like he had rarely experienced before, and for an instant a clear enough picture of the house's basement in Romania appeared in his mind, although it remained somewhat foggy. It was as if he was seeing something through a filter, of sorts, perhaps through someone else's mind. He saw Hermione, desperately holding herself on the wooden crossbeam of the unfinished wall, her leg covered in blood from the knee down. There was also a large pool of blood at her feet, and he saw on her face that she was in agonizing pain. And then, there was Malfoy … He was holding Hermione by a thick strand of her hair, and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, pulling the hair and forcing Hermione to look at him. And then Harry, horrorstruck, saw him put his wand away and start hitting Hermione violently. He winced at the sight of splattering blood as Draco's ring ripped through her right cheek. But before he could probe even further, everything went black. It was as if a curtain had been pulled over the non-existent stage of the theater of his mind … His scar exploded in pain, and he found himself being knocked down to the floor — he had been blocked out, and quite forcefully.

Harry quickly concentrated, emptying his mind of all emotions and thoughts, and almost immediately the pain in his scar subsided. He slowly opened his eyes, confident nobody could access his thoughts for the time being.

"Wow! Voldemort — er, I mean, Maldemort is really angry!", he told himself. Harry was quite distressed by what he had seen, even though Hermione had described it to him many times. Somehow, witnessing the ordeal made it painfully real, a fact which only fueled his already seething anger. He shuddered with disgust and rage.

And yet, Harry smiled at the thought that despite his vicious, unwarranted attack, Malfoy had nevertheless failed to capture Hermione, a blunder that was bound to unfuriate Maldemort. At least, there was something good coming out of the whole ordeal: Malfoy would really get it from his own father, his new "Master".

Harry's thoughts wandered again to Hermione, and the vivid scene he had just witnessed.

A burning flow of rage started boiling inside Harry's stomach. He had detested Malfoy in school. During their last year, Harry and Ron had made it their personal duty to make his life a living hell, especially when he attacked Hermione on the basis of her Muggle lineage. They had decided to turn a deaf ear to Hermione's lectures about being the "bigger" person, and to never let a personal attack from Malfoy go unpunished. Hence, during the whole year, Malfoy had been jinxed, hexed, cursed, and even punched and beaten physically — in general, he had finally learned not to mess openly with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, and especially not with their Muggle friend, Hermione Granger. Though Hermione had never said anything about this, and had continued giving lectures about "taking the higher road" to her two best friends, she nevertheless had appreciated being protected from Malfoy. And according to some "witnesses", she had often blushed during her last two years of school when Ginny or another of her friends told her that Harry or Ron — but particularly Harry — had managed to shut up Malfoy with some kind of hex or curse.

But this was more than a simple verbal attack or insult she had faced in school. This was vicious, cruel and deeply personal. Malfoy had dared attack Hermione with the obvious intent of harming and humiliating her. Furthermore, he had participated — Harry was convinced of it — in the murder of her parents … Even if he hadn't been in love with Hermione, Harry knew he would still have been digusted and infuriated by his behaviour.

Before doing what he had planned to do since the day before, Harry went to check on Hermione quietly: she was still sleeping, having taken a full dose of sleeping draught the night before. She would need the rest, since she was going to St-Mungo's today to get her knee injury straightened out. The healers had examined it, and had assured Hermione that they could restore her leg completely. The process, however, would be exhausting and — unfortunately — extremely painful.

"Will Harry Potter have breakfast this morning?" Harry turned around, and was startled to see Dobby bustling in the kitchen, apparently trying to familiarise himself with the place. He figured Dumbledore had sent him since they would be living in Godric's Hollow for a while.

"Er, not immediately, Dobby, wait until Hermione wakes up, okay? We'll all have breakfast together." Harry just wanted Dobby to leave him alone for a while.

"Very well, Harry Potter, Sir! Dobby will go around to see what kind of work awaits him in this new house! It is quite dusty and unattended to, Dobby can see!"

Harry nevertheless gave him a look of warning. "Just make sure you're quiet, Dobby, Hermione needs to sleep."

"No problem, Sir! Dobby will not wake Miss Granger, no Sir!" Dobby then left the kitchen, apparently going towards the stairs that led to the second floor of the house. Hermione was sleeping in a room on the ground floor, to avoid her needing to go up and down the stairs — a complicated and painful ordeal in her situation. Harry had just slept on the sofa since his arrival, wanting to make sure he was able to hear Hermione if she needed him. They had talked about sleeping in the same room, but had quickly both agreed they weren't comfortable with the idea. Their relationship was just starting, it was intense and yet, fragile, and Harry had not even had time to fathom the full impact of their romantic involvement together. He knew Hermione was old-fashioned, and felt himself that some kind of deep commitment was needed before he could even think of anything else than just … loving Hermione with all his heart, and coming to grips with everything it meant. Furthermore, his own parents had married right after Hogwarts, and he felt strongly that this "rite" should also find a significant place in his own life.

Not to say that he wasn't was aware, nevertheless, of a fastly growing, new kind of attraction towards her, a longing for Hermione that was very physical and that he had not really experienced to that level before — not even with Cho. He tried to manage it as best as he could, given the circumstances and the way he felt about Hermione, but these days just holding her was enough to trigger a whole bunch of physical and emotional reactions … But Harry was just coming to grasp with them, and didn't want to add more confusion to their relationship.

"Everything in due time", he thought out loud, quickly and intently bringing himself back to his thought process of before he had been interrupted by Dobby.

Harry sat down at the table, picked up his quill, and slowly, deliberately, thoughtfully wrote down the words on the piece of parchment he intended to send that very same day from the Post Office :

_Malfoy,_

_You once told me to be careful about the people I associated myself with. I, unlike you, was careful. But you certainly chose "carefully": darkness, hate, murder, torture, and death. And now, cowardice as well …_

_I hope you got some sick sense of satisfaction out of your actions, Malfoy, because you will not leave the next battlefield on which we meet. The last thing you will see before passing on to the next life will be my face._

_That is a promise._

_Harry Potter_

Unbeknownst to most, with the exception of perhaps Albus Dumbledore, there was a dark side to Harry that had developed during his last year of battle with Voldemort. Harry's Headmaster was constantly warning him about not giving in to its inclinations, because it was the beginning of the path to the Dark Side of magic. However, it had been Harry's conviction of the last seven years that the end justified the means. He had never let rules, people, or anything stop him from doing what he thought was right — and this had worked for him so far. But since he had killed in battle and used Unforgivable Curses, a black cloud rested upon him: his mood was darker, his temper flared at nothing, and his rage was often difficult to contain. His friends had been the ones to suffer from it, without really knowing where it came from. At some point or another, Ginny, Ron and Hermione had all been the victims of Harry's dark side. Thinking he was just depressed by his years of fighting Voldemort, they had often tried very nicely to talk to him about it, and even though he realized it and apologized for it, he just didn't want to bother with dealing with it. The truth was, he liked it: it gave him an outlet for his emotions. In the last year, however, Dumbledore had been warning him more urgently about its effect and the danger of letting it go unchecked.

But once again, this dark side was taking over … They were, Harry reasoned, in a war. Malfoy was the enemy, and the enemy had gone too far this time: his actions towards Hermione were unacceptable, and the threat he posed to her needed to be eliminated. Despite the personal nature of Draco's attack, it had nevertheless been an act of war.

Harry reread what he had written, and then slowly, ceremoniously, took out a very sharp knife. He approached it from his arm, and winced as he inflicted a small cut on himself, right beside another scar — from which the blood that had sealed Voldemort's return had been drawn three years before. He let the blood ooze out, soaked his right thumb in it, and pressed it upon the parchment, right beside the word "promise".

Nothing would stop Harry from carrying out his threat.

Not even blood.

--------------------

"I'm scared, Ron", Ginny said as she gulped down a bite of steak. "Harry is very emotional, and this could be dangerous — for the both of them!"

Ron was looking vaguely in front of him, gazing at the throngs of people coming in the Leaky Cauldron. They had decided to go out to eat. More often than not they ate supper at Number Twelve, Grimmaud Place, where Ron lived for the time being, but Dobby had now been dispatched to Harry's house in Godric's Hollow, and none of them was really keen on cooking.

"Yeah, he's been irrational, somewhat", Ron replied, and then continued. "Do you really think he can remain cool and objective now? I mean, he had a hard time before, and now … Well, you know, with Hermione being his 'girlfriend' and all …"

Ron smiled, and looked successively at Ginny, Luna and Neville. After a moment of silence, they all erupted in raucous laughter and giggles.

It was Neville that calmed down enough to try speaking first. "I mean, can you believe it? After all this time, and all the angst, and all the beating around the bush … Wasn't it obvious to all of you? Why in the world did it take so long?"

Ginny finally calmed herself, and said rather thoughtfully, "Well, Hermione and Harry are both kind of … complex individuals … Now put them together, and it makes for a very, very complicated relationship!"

Neville, however, wasn't satisfied with this explanation. "Yeah, okay, but I'm telling you —she's had for Harry at least since our fifth year, if not before! Don't you remember? She was all over Harry all the time, always making sure she sat beside him, always touching him and hugging him … She came up with the idea of the DA, she jinxed the list to make sure nobody told about it, she somehow managed to get the Quibbler interview … I mean, she was like Harry's conscience that year! Wasn't it obvious? Was I the only one who noticed?"

All three of them looked deep in thought, slowly remembering the events and nodding as if they now connected little details that they had not seen in that light before.

But Neville continued. "And besides, she was SO jealous of Cho! Wasn't it her that subtly — but surely — made sure that their relationship wouldn't work?"

Ron and Ginny suddenly looked at him with bewilderment and disbelief in their eyes. "What? Say that again? That's not possible, not the Hermione we know anyway! She wouldn't — she was always supportive of Harry's relationship with Cho, wasn't she? We didn't see that at all!!" Ginny had spoken, but Ron's expression of sheer amazement proved he agreed with her.

He was the one who spoke next. "Yeah, I mean Hermione would not have meddled like that, I think you're reaching there, Neville!"

Neville grinned maliciously. "Well, perhaps I overheard something that neither of you did … It was right after we had our first meeting of the DA. It was late, and I couldn't sleep, so I went down to the common room — however, I heard a girl's voice coming from the room, so I stopped dead at the top of the stairs. After a moment, I recognized Hermione's voice, but it was rather high-pitched, and she sounded like she was crying. So I came down a few more steps, and that's when I saw that she was going over the list from the DA meeting. And each time she read a name, she would pronounce some words and do a very elaborate flick with her wand."

Ginny, Ron and Luna were hanging to his every word, captivated: they had never known this, Neville had kept the secret to himself all this time.

Ron's face beamed with understanding. "So that's when she jinxed that list! That sure came handy when Marietta betrayed us all! But come on, mate, what happened next?"

"Yes, I realized much later that's what she had been doing. Jinxing the list, I mean, to protect us. But when she got to Cho's name on the list, she didn't pronounce the spells right away, she paused. Then, I heard her distinctly say these words, 'Oh, of course, Cho Chang, Harry's little cutie! What can he possibly see in her?' There was another pause, and I thought she would just continue on with her protective spells, but all I heard then was a muffled sob. Then I heard Hermione say this, with a softer, sadder voice: 'Oh Harry, why can't you look at me the same way you look at her? I would give anything …' That's when I realized that I was intruding on something very personal to her, so I made to go back up the stairs, but my foot slipped. I had no choice but to lie and say I had just arrived, since Hermione had heard and was looking up directly at me as I pretended to be coming down. I made a nice show, and asked her if she was okay — her eyes were all red and puffy. She said she was fine, that she was just distressed over the DA meetings and wondering if it was the right thing to do, etc … I don't think she ever suspected I had overheard anything she had said before."

Ron and Ginny were completely surprised. Luna didn't seem to be so surprised at this new information, but then again, it was hard to figure out Luna's thoughts sometimes.

Ron sighed. "So she WAS jealous of Cho after all … One thing for sure, when Hermione wants to hide something, she's really good at it. I mean, who knew?"

Ginny turned towards Neville, with an expression of surprise and puzzlement on her face.

"Well Neville, you've been keeping secrets, haven't you? What else do you know that you never told us?"

Neville blushed as Ginny looked at him intensely. "Oh, well, you know, I'm good at keeping people's … secrets. Even mine, for that matter!" He looked down, unable to stare Ginny in the eyes, and quickly turned to Ron and Luna, anxious to continue talking about Hermione and Harry.

"Er, to get back to my story … So I knew she was envious of Cho, obviously! But however, when the next Hogsmeade weekend came, Hermione asked me if I would go shopping with her, since Harry was on his date with Cho and you, Ron, had Quidditch practice. I gladly went, since I would have been alone to go anyway. But then, about halfway through our morning, Hermione told me she had set up a meeting with Harry for lunch! I must have reacted, because she then asked me anxiously, 'What? What's the matter?' I looked at her with surprise, and just answered, 'Hermione! He's on a date with Cho, don't you think it's a … bad idea that he meets with you? Today?!' She just looked at me with a slight expression of surprise, and replied, 'Oh! You're right, that was today, now, wasn't it? Gosh, I didn't remember … Well, it's very important that I see Harry today — I guess Cho will have to let Harry go for an hour or so …'"

Neville looked slightly embarassed now.

"At that moment, I was sure she had done this on purpose. But maybe she just figured that Harry would be able to handle Cho better than he did, and I don't think she realized then the influence she had on Harry — something that Cho, on the opposite, seemed to have understood that very day. Anyway, I didn't feel it was my place to challenge her about that, so I just answered simply, 'Well, if it's that important …'"

Everyone around the table was amazed that Neville had kept this to himself for almost three years now, yet everyone felt relieved that Hermione had not been, as he had seemed to think, manipulative and meddling.

But apparently on a roll, Neville continued.

"And that is why I was SO shocked to see you —" he looked at Ron hesitantly before continuing, "er, to see YOU and Hermione dating the year after … I mean, from my point of view, it made absolutely no sense at all."

Ron frowned, as if deep in thought. "Yeah, I guess it never made sense … Isn't it funny I was the last one to realize that?"

Ginny laughed. "Oh, don't pretend to be all offended, you knew early on, you told me!"

"Yeah, I did … It was —"

"Good evening, all of you", said a grave voice behind them. Albus Dumbledore had appeared in their midst, without any of them noticing. Ron gasped, stopping short of finishing what he was about to say. The others turned around, and recoiled in surprise at the sight of the Headmaster.

"Oh! Good evening, Professor!", Ginny said, speaking for all of them. "What a pleasant, er — yet unexpected — surprise!"

Dumbledore smirked, and said calmly, "Don't worry, Miss Weasley, I do not wish to intrude on your evening, I would just need a word with your brother Ronald."

Ron looked even more shocked. "Er, certainly, Professor, we can go at the table over there", he answered, pointing at an empty corner table."

They sat down, but neither of them spoke for a few seconds. Dumbledore was looking at Ron with his usual intense gaze, and Ron just wondered how to get out of this absolutely uncomfortable moment. He tried to break the silence first. "So … You need to talk to me, Sir?"

"Yes, Ronald, I do … I'd like to give you your first assignment as a member of the Order. You see, I fear that Harry's objectivity may have been somewhat … compromised as it pertains to Miss Granger. Wouldn't you agree?"

Ron stared at Dumbledore, puzzled. "Well, yes, of course! We were talking about exactly that, just now! I mean, he was impulsive before, and protective of us, but now that he cares for her in a 'new' way, he's going to go postal if you ask me!"

"Exactly. Now, that is where you come in. I need you to keep an eye on Harry, to make sure he doesn't act impulsively in regards to Miss Granger. Like you said, he will be overprotective now, and his 'impaired' judgement may hurt the both of them … Now, I will work with him on that, but for the next few months, I would need you to act as … his conscience, if you would, to make sure Harry weighs his decisions properly when the need arises."

"Well … Harry usually does what Harry wants, but okay, I can try … But how exactly do you suggest I do that? I'm going to be travelling quite a bit, and chances are I will be away from Harry and Hermione most of the time …"

The Headmaster smiled, as if he had known all along what Ron was going to say. "Well, we are in need of a flying teacher, since Mrs. Hooch left to become a professional Quidditch referee … The position is part time, so it wouldn't interfere with your Quidditch schedule. And I'm sure our students would be quite delighted and honored — as would I — to have a professional Quidditch player teaching them how to fly! …"

A few moments later, Ron made his way back to the table where Ginny, Neville and Luna were anxiously awaiting his return. He sat down, still in shock, a seemingly permanent smile plastered on his flustered face.

Ginny spoke immediately, using the tone a sister uses when she wants to extract information from her brother. "Well? Talk! What on earth was that all about?"

Ron replied simply, "You won't believe it, even if I tell you!"

He paused for effect, looking at each bewildered face.

"I'm going to be a teacher!"

--------------------

Hermione stirred, and opened her eyes. She delicately felt her cheek with her hand, trying to determine if her wound was healing properly. Despite the excellent care of Mrs. Pomfrey at Hogwarts, she was still in a lot of pain … Her leg was unbearably difficult to move, her knee still swollen and mangled underneath the thick bandaging, and her face was just beginning to find its original colour. There were good news, however: the gash on her cheek was healing, and she had been relieved to learn that it wouldn't leave a scar if properly treated. That was why she was anxious to get to St-Mungo's hospital that day, to finally get all this over with.

Slowly, each movement painful, Hermione got out of bed and found her new mean of locomotion, good old crutches that Harry had gotten for her at a nearby Muggle convenient store. With her knee heavily bandaged and immobilized, she couldn't put any weight on it whatsoever, and the crutches allowed her to move around without using magic all the time. She made it out of the room with much effort, hobbling along and trying not to wince from pain every time she hit her knee on a door frame or some other obstacle.

"It's a good thing I don't have to stay long on these awful things …" she muttered, working up a sweat just trying to move around.

Hermione shrieked as she almost got into a head-on collision with Dobby who was jogging out of the kitchen without looking at all where he was going. Startled himself, but smiling and looking at her with his large, tennis ball eyes, Dobby simply said, "Good Morning, Miss Hermione! Dobby hopes you are feeling better, and apologizes for scaring you!"

"That's quite all right, Dobby!" she said indulgently, patting the elf on the top of the head. Hermione had given up her aspirations about S.P.E.W. a long time ago, but she still believed that elves were more than just slaves, and really liked Dobby.

"Is Harry around?" she asked, suddenly realizing the dead silence in the house and noticing the folded blankets and pillow neatly piled on the living room sofa.

"No, Miss Hermione, Harry Potter had to leave to run an errand. He said he would be back soon, and that is why Dobby must now prepare breakfast!"

Hermione was surprised. What possible errand could Harry have had to run here, in Godric's Hollow, where they had barely just arrived?

Hermione sat down at the table while Dobby started preparing breakfast. She saw a roll of parchment, from which a part had been torn off recently, and Harry's quill lying on the table. She smiled, remembering the moment when she had given it to him the year before for his birthday. He had just turned seventeen, and she had felt really bad because of the horrible sixth year he'd had, when her and Ron had left him alone almost all year. She wanted to give him something useful, as was her habit, but this time she wanted it to have a very personal touch. A gift he would be seeing everyday, and that could remind him of her. She had been browsing Diagon Alley, and had seen the beautiful quill in the window — it was trimmed with gold, and made with a huge phoenix tail feather, something that obviously had a very personal meaning for Harry. It was also charmed to be unbreakable, and came with a lifetime warranty. Hermione had tried it, and had almost been tempted to buy one for herself, since writing with it was so incredibly smooth and pleasurable. It was ridiculously expensive, but Hermione had not cared: she wanted Harry to have it. She had it engraved — boldly, at the time — with the surprising words: "From Hermione. I'll always be there for you."

She had wanted to give it to him personally, but her parents had insisted she accompany them to France for the summer holidays, and she had not had the heart to say no. She had already skipped a couple of family vacations in the last year and a half, and she didn't want to hurt their feelings. She had reluctantly settled on sending the present with Hedwig, whom had just delivered a letter from Harry. And even though Harry had thanked her warmly the next time they had met, he had not said anything about the engraving. Nevertheless, she had been pleased to see him using the quill every day, and she had caught him more than once smiling as he read the engraving. There had been one time afterwards, however, when he had furtively glanced in her direction after looking closely at his quill. Their eyes had met, Harry had winked at her and pointed at the quill, and then had worded silently with his lips, "I'll always be there for you too!", pointing successively at himself and her to make sure she had understood. It had been a good thing that Professor McGonagall had seen their little game, and interrupted them:

"Mr. Potter, Miss Granger? Perhaps you could share your amazing silent conversation with the rest of the class? I'm quite sure it would enlighten us all, since I dare not assume it ISN'T about Transfiguration …"

It had been Harry who had muttered, "Sorry! No, nothing enlightening, I'm afraid. I was just, er, trying to convince Hermione to … partner with me for our practical Transfiguration session later!" Ron had turned towards him, puzzled and looking apparently offended. Harry had just rolled his eyes, looked at him and shaken his head, to make sure Ron understood it had to do with something else. It had been a good thing for Hermione that McGonagall had focused on Harry, too, because she had turned in a nice shade of purple after what he had told her.

Hermione picked up the quill, and looked at it. It was still very beautiful, even though it showed some signs of wear. The gold engraving was still very much there, and her heart leapt at the thought that it was no longer a dream, that they were both there for each other now, to the fullest extent.

But suddenly, her heart sank, and she felt a wave of coldness go down her spine, as she made a dreadful realization.

"Oh NO! Harry's birthday! I — I completely forgot!" She put her hands over her open mouth, astonished that she could have made such a blunder. She had never, in seven years of school, failed to give Harry a birthday or Christmas present. And now, at a time when maybe it should have mattered the most, she had totally forgotten …

The door opened at the same moment. Harry walked in, looking preoccupied and apparently in a very nasty mood.

Hermione didn't wait. She got up in a flash, one-hopped all the way to the door, and threw her arms around Harry's neck. She kissed him passionately, and even though he had looked surprised at first, he gently put her arms around her waist, and lifted her up a bit, as they continued kissing softly. After a while, she looked up at him, guiltily, and whispered with the most beautiful of smiles, "I'm SO sorry, Harry! Happy birthday! I can't believe I forgot!"

Harry's mood brightened instantly. He laughed and swung her up in his arms as easily as if he had just picked up his broom. He swirled around, making both of them dizzy before putting her down on the couch and almost falling besides her.

"I think", he said with a hint of glee, "that this year, I got the most beautiful birthday present from you so far!"

Hermione was giddy, and laughed as she replied, "Oh, you're so nice, but Harry — I didn't give you anything! I've been such an insensitive, selfish git this year! I was so involved in myself, and my 'choices', that I totally forgot your birthday!"

With a mischievous grin, Harry just looked at her.

"But Hermione, you did give me something on the night of my birthday, at the Leaky Cauldron. You gave me your heart! That night, for the first time, I started to comprehend my feelings for you. That is the best present you have EVER given me!"

Hermione couldn't reply, and just leaned her head on Harry's shoulder. She discretely pinched herself, just to make sure all this wasn't just a dream …

--------------------

St-Mungo's remained quite familiar to Harry, since he had spent a whole month there not too long ago. He didn't really like the place, and as he sat on the hospital bed besides Hermione, who was reading an information booklet about the procedure she was about to go through, he wondered when his next visit would be. Hermione's shaky voice brought him back from his thoughts.

"I'm scared, Harry", she said, looking up at him with imploring eyes. "I mean, they say that it is so painful that patients often faint!"

Harry took her hand, and looked at her, trying to appear as reassuring as he could.

"It's going to be fine, Hermione. I had my arm re-grown once, remember? It's painful, I won't lie to you … But it's bearable!"

Hermione turned away, and looked at the window. "Yeah, well, I'm not like you, I don't know how much pain I can take!"

It was true, Harry thought, that he had suffered physically a lot more than the people close to him. He seemed to have a higher threshold than most for suffering, a "skill" he had acquired against his wishes over the last few years.

"Well", he continued, "try to focus on something else … Like me, for example!" Harry grinned as Hermione nudged him gently on the shoulder.

"That won't take away the pain, now, will it? Nice try though!"

Harry then remembered something insightful, that he was sure would help Hermione.

He gently put his hand on her cheek, and looking at her eagerly, spoke. "Remember when I was put under the Cruciatus curse at the beginning of the summer?"

Hermione's eyes went wide, and she looked at him in shock, almost insulted. "Of course I remember! That was less than two months ago! How could I EVER forget that moment, I thought … I was sure I had lost you forever!" Tears welled up in her eyes … The memory of the event was still very fresh, and she had been horrified at the thought of losing Harry without ever telling him she loved him.

"I never told you this, but you … saved me that day … It was somehow because of you that I managed to defeat the curse …"

Hermione looked at him, puzzled and curious. "What do you mean? I wasn't even there!"

Harry laughed. "I know, I know! But when the pain became too much to bear, my body started shutting down. Everything went black, and I started seeing images from my life, in slow motion. I thought, at that moment, that I was dying — since, you know, it was exactly like those 'testimonies' of people who have near-death experiences and such. But then, one image came … It was your face, the same face you had when we first met on the train. And I saw it change into what you look like now, but in a weird fashion, your eyes always remained the same: you seemed to be looking at me, trying to tell me something … I could see something so deep and so powerful in your eyes, and I just focused all my energy on them ... I focused on you, Hermy!"

Hermione's heart was beating extremely fast now, and tears had started streaming down her cheeks: somehow, a very real connection had been established that day between the both of them. Indeed, when Harry had left the castle to go fight Voldemort, she had been so overwhelmed with fear and grief that she had broken down into sobs … She had found a corner in the Great Hall where nobody would easily spot her, had sat down and closed her eyes, and then she had just thought of him — how she loved him, how she hurt from not telling him, how she couldn't bear to lose him now … And apparently — miraculously — it had helped him, she had gotten throught to him.

But Harry continued, anxious to share the rest of that moment with her. "And as I focused on you, the pain diminished. That's when I realized I could fight it! And I did, and you know the rest of the story … Maybe if you focus on me during the procedure, the pain won't be so bad!"

But right then, Harry remembered something he had brushed aside before, but that now seemed to make sense.

"But — just wait a minute! When you came to me afterwards, when I was unconscious, did you — did you talk to me? Did you say something to me?"

Harry was looking at her intently, anticipating her answer.

Hermione blushed. "Well, yes, Harry, I did talk to you. I thought you were dead, you know … And at that moment, I wanted to die too …" She looked down as she said those words, trying to not think about the mere possibility of Harry's death — it was a fear that remained undeniably real to her.

She looked at him, her eyes beaming and glittery, and she grabbed his face with both her hands. "I told you I loved you, for the first time in my life. And I think you heard me, because you opened your eyes, and smiled."

Harry's heart jumped, and started racing. A wonderful, warm wave of passion suddenly ignited from the deepest part of his stomach area … He moved towards Hermione, and kissed her as she herself pulled him closer, her hands now behind his neck. In the swiftness of the moment, she lost balance and they both fell backwards on the soft hospital bed, Harry suddenly lying on top of her. But somehow, neither of them seemed eager to get back up. Harry just continued kissing her, as she slid her arms more intently around his neck and held him closer, with more intensity … Time seemed to stop for a while, as they kissed and held each other lovingly, passionately, desperately. Harry then paused for a moment, drew back ever so slightly, and just looked at her. Hermione's eyes were closed, her cheeks were flustered and red, she was panting — and she was just so … beautiful, so … inviting. Harry's chest was about to explode when she opened her eyes, and smiled. He conveniently slid to the side, still partly on top of her but now leaning more comfortably on his right elbow, with his right hand behind the nape of her neck.

"What? What's the matter?" she whispered softly, kissing him gently on the chin, eagerly trying to make her way back towards his lips again.

Harry didn't know what to say exactly. Gazing at her, unbelievably happy, he just buried his face in her hair near her ear, and simply replied, "I love you so much! It's almost too amazing to be true!"

He felt her squeeze her arms around his neck, and was once again overtaken by a wave of fiery passion. He started kissing her neck, and distinctly heard Hermione breath faster as he kissed his way back towards the front of her face, following the line of her jawbone. She had slightly, naturally tilted her head backwards, as if to make it easier for him to continue.

Harry felt boiling warmth everywhere inside, and he felt Hermione shiver as he put his free hand — the left one — gently on her now bare navel (her sweater had been slightly pulled up as Harry had slid to the side.)

"Hem, hem! … We are all set for the procedure, Miss Granger. That is, if you are, er, ready, of course … We could proceed right away!"

Both Hermione and Harry straightened up clumsily in a flash. She tried, innocently, to fix her hair, attempting to look as natural as possible.

"Er, sorry, yes … I am ready! We just … fell on the bed."

"Of course, Miss Granger, we understand. The orderly will help you get to the room where the procedure will be performed."

Harry had to bite his lip not to explode in laughter as he looked at her from the corner of his eye. But as she looked back at him with a malicious grin and unbounded love shining in her big, bright, expressive brown eyes, he was unexpectedly and suddenly struck, for the first time, with a chilling, horrifying thought …

The gripping terror that one day, sooner or later, he might be without her.


End file.
